


Gigabytes

by whichclothes



Series: Biteverse [6]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-14
Updated: 2010-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichclothes/pseuds/whichclothes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  A new story in the <a href="http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1">Biteverse</a>. Xander begins aging a decade each night. Can Spike and the others find the cause and fix it before it's too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
  
  
**Entry tags:**|   
[biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/biteverse), [gigabytes](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/gigabytes), [hc_bingo](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/hc_bingo), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike%2Fxander)  
  
---|---  
  
 _ **Gigabytes (1/7)**_  
 **Title:**  Gigabytes   
 **Chapter:** 1/7  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:**  I'm not Joss  
 **Summary:**  A new story in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1). Xander begins aging a decade each night. Can Spike and the others find the cause and fix it before it's too late?  
 **A/N:**  Uses the [](http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/profile)[**hc_bingo**](http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/)  prompt aging. Banner by the amazngly talented [](http://sentine.livejournal.com/profile)[**sentine**](http://sentine.livejournal.com/) , and beta work by the wonderful [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) . The fic is complete and I'll post a chapter per day, travel permitting.

 **Gigabytes**

 **Thirty**

 

“How come _I_ never get to play the bad guy?”

Spike gave him a look that clearly meant “Duh!” even if Spike was too English to say it out loud. “Vampire?”

“So? I’m a werewolf. That’s scary too.”

“Yes, pet,” Spike said condescendingly. “But right now you look like a nice, ordinary one-eyed bloke. If you’re furry you can’t talk to the wankers. And if you change long enough to frighten them and then switch back so you can speak, you’ll be naked and I’m not letting them ogle my boy.”

Xander grumbled but he couldn’t fault Spike’s logic. He didn’t really want to be naked in front of a bunch of Fienar demons either. He wondered what you called a gang of Fienars. A herd? A pride? A gaggle, maybe. They did have feathers and sort of honking voices.

“Oi, Fido!” Spike bopped him lightly on the head. “Focus, mate.”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry won’t save your tail if you’re woolgathering and the Fienars attack. Stay on task for just a bit.”

“You sound like Mrs. Barone.”

“Who?”

“My sixth grade teacher. She was always ‘Stay on task, Xander,’ and ‘Come back to earth, Xander,’ and ‘You’re going to need to know about dangling participles someday, Xander,’ which was totally a lie, by the way.”

Spike chuckled and pulled the van to a stop in a dark parking lot, empty except for a pair of battered old Toyotas. “Mrs. Barone was right, love. You do tend to wander.”

“I thought you liked it when I wandered,” Xander said, sounding petulant even to his own ears

“I do. But I don’t fancy you getting torn to pieces. Fienars have these claws—”

“Yeah, yeah. Nasty demons, blah blah blah. I get it. I promise I’ll pay attention if they try to disembowel me, okay?”

Spike cupped a hand on Xander’s neck. “Good. And when we’re finished with this lot, we’ll have a lovely run in the hills and you can find something to sink your teeth into. That’ll stop you from feeling out of sorts.”

Xander sighed. “I’d rather sink my teeth—or other parts of my anatomy—into you.”

Spike waggled his eyebrows. “That can be arranged.” He clapped Xander’s knee and then climbed out of the van. Xander followed him across the parking lot, still grumbling under his breath.

The Fienars had their hangout in a strip mall, in between Kelly’s Pool Supplies and an H&R Block. The sign over the demons’ place claimed that it was an insurance office. Hell, maybe it was an insurance office. Even demons had to make a living somehow. Spike paused at the door until Xander caught up with him and then barged in with Xander at his heels.

The inside looked just like an insurance office too, with plasticky chairs and cheap paintings of bland landscapes and stacks of outdated magazines: _Field & Stream_ and _Family Fun_ and _Insurance Times_ and _People_ with Michael Jackson on the cover. The only unusual things about the place were the feathers scattered here and there on the floor, like someone hadn’t cleaned up very well after a pillow fight. The receptionist’s desk was unattended—no big surprise at one in the morning—but a few seconds after Spike and Xander entered, a half-dozen Fienars emerged from behind an orange partition. They had beady reddish eyes and they smelled like burned carpet. Xander had to suppress a sneeze as the demons waddled closer.

Spike strode forward, placing himself between Xander and the demons, then vamped out and snarled at them.

One of the Fienars faced him. It was probably the leader—it was bigger than the others and its feathers were shinier. “Explain your presence!” it demanded.

“You know exactly why I’m here, tosser. You and your feathered friends are fouling the nest a bit, yeah?”

The Fienar glared. “Cease these insults forthwith!”

Spike swaggered forward another step. “Fine. I’ll just rip your face off, then.”

The Fienar squawked and raised its taloned hands. That was Xander’s cue. He stepped quickly in between them, hands up placatingly. “Hey, hey, guys. Let’s not be hasty. Can’t we all just get along?”

The demons on either side of him continued to glare at each other, but Spike retracted his fangs and the Fienar unruffled its feathers. The other demons looked at their leader and then relaxed a little.

“You have entered our place of business uninvited and—”

“I know,” Xander said. “And we don’t even want insurance, although maybe we could talk about it some other time. You have no idea how hard it is for us to get coverage! But tonight we’re here ‘cause you guys have been thinking of turning to the dark side, and we want to stop you before you cross that line.”

“Bollocks,” Spike growled. “We’re here to shred you to bloody bits.”

Xander put a palm on his lover’s chest. “Sorry,” he said to the head Fienar. “He takes his work _really_ seriously.” Then he turned to face Spike. “Chill, okay? Let’s at least give them a chance to cooperate before we go all Hulk on them.”

Spike snarled again, managing to look remarkably scary despite his human face and not-so-big stature. Knowing that the Fienars couldn’t see his own face, Xander gave Spike a small smile. He looked serious again when he turned back to the chief goose-demon. “William the Bloody’s not exactly known for his patience, guys. If I were you I’d play nice, fast.”

The Fienar looked back at its underlings and they all conversed in their native language, which sounded like a massacre on the farm. After a few minutes of heated interchange, the chief faced Spike and Xander again. “What is it you desire?”

“Every bit of rubbish you were using to blackmail those poor chits,” Spike said, because apparently the Fienars had been gathering dirt on a band of Harpies (who were, Xander had learned, way prettier than the name implied) and they were using the info to extort money out of the Harpies. Which was bad, Xander had been told solemnly by Angel and Kyna and Wes, because the Harpies were good guys—well, good gals—and actually performed a public service by cleaning up roadkill. Ew. The Harpies had begged for help, and somehow Spike and Xander got volunteered.

The biggest Fienar scowled at them both until Spike stepped forward. The feathered demon fell back a little. “Very well,” it hissed. “But you must pledge not to molest my brethren.”

Molest? Xander tried to imagine having sex with one of these things. Yuck. Spike must have known what he was thinking because he whacked Xander fairly hard in the bicep. To the Fienar, Spike said, “Fine. We’ll leave you lot alone, so long as you hand over the goods and keep your beaks clean. But if we hear bad news about you again we won’t be so merciful.”

The Fienar nodded jerkily and honked something at one of his pals. That demon—its feathers were kind of scraggly and sad looking, and Xander figured it was at the bottom of the pecking order—waddled back behind the partition. It returned a few seconds later carrying a laptop, which it handed over to its boss. The boss, in turn, passed it to Xander, who tucked it under his arm.

“If the shite isn’t on that machine….” Spike growled.

“I assure you. The materials you seek are there,” the Fienar replied.

Spike gave them all a final warning sneer, Xander waved at them, and then Spike and Xander left.

As the van rumbled back down the road, Spike reached over and put a hand on Xander’s knee. “See? You made a brilliant good cop.”

“Hmm. But I would have been fine as bad cop, too. I wouldn’t have had to talk or shift to human or anything. Just, you know, look all rabid and grandmother-eating.”

“Or you could just piss on their rug.”

Xander humphed slightly and turned towards the window, although there was nothing interesting to see. After a few silent minutes, Spike squeezed his knee. “C’mon, love. What’s been eating you? Besides me, of course. You’ve been grouchy for weeks.”

“I have not—” Xander began, but then he stopped. Because he _had_ been grouchy for weeks, and he knew it.

“Pet?” Spike asked. He pulled the van over to the curb and cut the engine. He squirmed sideways a little and tugged at Xander’s arm, drawing him around so they were mostly facing each other again. “What is it, Xan? Is it the poof? I swear, I’ll kick his fat arse—”

“It’s not Angel. Angel’s fine. Well, as fine as he ever is.”

“It’s his Slayer, then. She has you running about for their bloody wedding—”

“That’s no big deal. I don’t mind.” And that was true. Yes, Kyna had him building various altar things in the restored ballroom, and as soon as he’d get one built she’d change her mind about it. And at the same time he was supposed to be remodeling four adjacent rooms into Kyna’s and Angel’s new suite, complete with floral curtains and gold-colored bathroom fixtures that made him gag. But it was no big deal. It kept him busy, and it wasn’t like he was going to be stuck living in that decorating nightmare.

Spike sighed, and Xander knew he was trying his best to be patient. “What _is_ it then? Is it me?”

“No!” Xander caught at Spike’s hand. “It’s not you. It’s….” He squeezed his eye shut. “I found a gray hair.”

Spike’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Reckoned Anya was the one with the bunny phobia, Xan. Wolves generally fancy eating the furry little things.”

“ _Hair_ , Spike! On my head!” Xander yanked at a handful to demonstrate.

Spike leaned in very close and peered at Xander’s scalp. “Don’t see anything but brown, pet.”

“That’s because I pulled it out.”

“Then why all the fuss?”

“Of course you wouldn’t understand, Mr. Eternal Youth. I pulled that hair but soon there will be more.”

Spike shrugged. “I expect you’ll look very distinguished. But if it bothers you so much, dye it.” He grinned. “Or you could bleach it blond. I’ll let you share my bleach, even.”

“The color of my hair is not the point!” More than a hint of a growl escaped with those words.

“Then what in all hells _is_ your point?”

“The _point **,**_ Spike, is that I’m getting older. And some day—if I don’t get killed by a demon first—I’ll be _old_. And you won’t.” He crossed his arms and looked out the window, away from his lover. But of course he could still hear Spike sigh.

“Knew this was bound to come up eventually. Xander, it doesn’t matter. I love you. You’re a right treat now, but that’s not why I love you, and I won’t love you any less when you’re gray and wrinkled and stooped and eating dinner at 4 pm at Hometown Buffet. I’ll love you every minute I have you and when I don’t have you anymore…well, then nothing will matter.” His voice went a little hoarse at the end and Xander turned to look at him.

“What about when I can’t keep up with you anymore? When you’re still…still a world-saving superhero…and I’m hobbling around on plastic knees and collecting Medicare?”

“Then we’ll cuddle on the sofa all day, watching telly and complaining about Angel.” Spike laced his fingers behind Xander’s neck and brought their heads together. “Love’s never forever, Xan, not even among immortals. We could be together a thousand years and it wouldn’t be enough for me. So let’s enjoy whatever time we do have, yeah? Spend it shagging and fighting and laughing, and that’s the best we can do. Best anyone can do, I reckon.”

Some of the tightness in Xander’s chest eased. He knew Spike was right. He had so much now, so much more than he’d ever dreamed of, really; it was selfish to wish it would never end. He snuffled a little. “’Kay.”

“Good boy.” And Spike chuckled a little. “I expect Angel and Kyna will be having a similar chat soon. Or perhaps first they’ll have the conversation where she realizes it’s very unlikely she’ll be a mum.”

“Oh. Shit. You think he’ll turn her someday?”

“Dunno. A Slayer who’s a vamp—an interesting idea. Don’t know that it would take.”

“Like me.” Because they’d talked about this once or twice, when Xander had been wounded in one fight or another, and the consensus was that trying to make a werewolf into a vampire was just asking for disaster. Spike wasn’t willing to risk Xander like that, and Xander wasn’t especially eager to take that risk.

“Nobody’s like you, Xan.” He threaded the fingers of one hand through the hair on the back of Xander’s head. “You’re one of a kind.”

Xander sniffled again, because that’s what happened to him when Spike went all schmoopy and Williamish on him. “At least promise me when I’m gone you’ll find someone else really quick. You don’t do well on your own, Spike.”

Spike snorted. “Oh, no worries. I’ve a whole stable of pretty boys and girls just waiting for you to kick it.”

Xander reached over and tickled Spike in that secret spot on his side, where nobody but Xander knew he was ticklish. “Well, you could wait until my corpse has cooled, Fangface.”

Spike grabbed at Xander’s hand and kissed the knuckles. In a tone that was suddenly very serious, he said, “You’re the last for me, love. If you go before I do, well, that’s it.”

“What do you mean ‘that’s it?’”

“‘By a sleep to say we end the heartache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to – ‘tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.’”

Xander blinked at him. “ _Suicide_? You’ll kill yourself?!”

“Already dead, love. Twice over. Death doesn’t scare me.”

“But—”

“Xan, let’s not. I love you. I’ll make bloody certain you’re around a good long time and I’ll be with you and that’s all that’s important. All right? Please?”

Xander paused for a minute and then nodded. There wasn’t any point doing this now, and he did feel a little better. “Okay.”

Spike smiled with relief. “Fancy that hunt now? We’ve several hours before daylight. We could drive up the coast and—”

“Nah. Let’s just go home and make sure the laptop has that crap it’s supposed to. And then I’m thinking a good old dose of carpe diem for both of us.”

Spike lifted an eyebrow. “Does that dose involve nudity?”

“Most definitely. And probably foul language.”

They kissed, briefly but fervently, and then Spike started up the engine and pulled away from the curb.

 

***

 

There was a note for them on the whiteboard in the Hyperion lobby. The whiteboard had been Kyna’s idea, a convenient way for them to communicate, and all the men except Wes had grumbled about it. But Angel shut up right away when she reminded him that they wouldn’t need the whiteboard so much if he could figure out how to work a cell phone properly. Xander rarely carried a phone—no pockets in his wolf pelt—and Spike wouldn’t bother to answer his unless it was Xander calling him. So whiteboard it was.

The note was written in Kyna’s curly script and it stated that she, Angel, and Wes had gone to Santa Barbara to investigate reports of a malicious haunting. They didn’t expect to return until after sunset the next night.

“We’ve the place to ourselves,” Spike said, grinning. “I can nick some of the poof’s whiskey and—”

“Let’s just head upstairs, okay? We smell like birds, and our mattress is ever so much more comfy than wherever you were thinking of shagging down here.”

“Spoilsport.”

Xander grabbed Spike’s right hand—the left was holding the laptop—and pulled him up the stairs, all the way to their suite on the fourth floor. Xander had just put the finishing touches on their rooms a few weeks ago and the place was pretty close to perfect, although he’d probably still tweak a thing or two here and there. They had an enormous bathroom—as big as a standard hotel room—with a separate shower and a tub big enough for two. Xander had surprised Spike with a heated towel rack and had been thanked rather athletically for it. Their bedroom included a Cal king bed and north-facing windows with shutters, just in case. They had a kitchenette. Nothing too fancy but with all the basics, including a table big enough for guests. Wes joined them for dinner a couple times a week, and most Tuesday nights so did Kyna and Angel. And there was a spacious living area, with a huge flat-screen TV and two incredible couches. They’d tried hundreds before they’d settled on these. There were also several shelves to house Spike’s ever-expanding book collection and a desk with the computer they shared. It felt like home.

Xander really hoped no bad guys came to blow it up again.

Spike set the Fienars’ laptop down on the kitchen table and pulled Xander into an embrace. “You haven’t had a proper dinner tonight.”

“I had that burger on the way.”

“Like I said, no proper dinner. We’ve some steaks in the fridge, though. I’ll fry one up for you.”

“I thought you had other plans.”

“Oh, I do. But I reckon you ought to have a bite to eat now so I can have a bite to eat later. Wouldn’t want you to faint on me.”

Xander licked at Spike’s neck, exactly in that spot he knew drove his vampire crazy. “Somebody’s got a pretty high opinion of himself, thinking he can make me pass out.” He dug his teeth slightly into tender skin and Spike shuddered against him.

But then Spike swatted his ass and pushed him away. “Dinner first,” he said firmly.

“Is that my alpha speaking?”

“It is.”

“That mean you’re in the mood to top tonight?”

“Could be,” Spike responded with a leer.

“Fine. Then hurry up with that steak.”

Spike snorted and pushed Xander down onto a kitchen chair, then walked toward the cabinets and started to bustle around. Xander watched him happily. For some reason it gave him particular pleasure when Spike got all domestic. A couple weeks ago he’d walked into the suite to discover Spike pushing a vacuum around their floor, and that had ended up with two ruined shirts and one small stain on the area rug.

But after a few minutes Xander started fidgeting with the things on the table—salt and pepper shakers, a couple of paper napkins, a pen advertising DWIGHT LAM DDS, FAMILY DENTIST. But his hands inevitably made their way to the laptop and, as Spike hummed to himself and chopped vegetables for a salad, Xander opened the case and pressed the power button.

The Fienars’ wallpaper was a photo of a waterfall over mossy rocks. He’d expected something more exotic. Microsoft Windows 7 for Demons, maybe. There were only a few folders on the desktop, most of them with strings of what looked like random letters but were probably something meaningful in Fienarese. Fienarish. Whatever. But one of the folders was labeled in plain English: Harpies. Xander wondered exactly what kind of stuff you used to blackmail Harpies. He double-clicked on the folder.

Several files were revealed. Again, they were labeled in gobbledegook, so he chose one at random and double-clicked again. Something opened—it wasn’t a Word or Excel document and it wasn’t a web page, and that was about the limit of his computer knowledge. This thing made the screen go black like computers used to in the Dark Ages of DOS, with strings of greenish figures running across them. “Kinda like _Matrix_ ,” he muttered, and then yelped in surprise as the laptop jerked away from him.

But it was only Spike, who had yanked the computer away and was now scowling down at him. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Just looking.”

“Likely as not to erase the files and create huge problems for us all. Pet, if you want to surf YouPorn, use our computer instead.”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Xander protested. But Spike snapped the laptop shut and, with a final glare, set it on top of the fridge. Xander would have pouted more, but then Spike brought over a plate full of food and it smelled absolutely wonderful.

“Eat,” Spike said, setting the dish in front of him.

“Aren’t you gonna have some?” Xander asked, cutting eagerly into the slab of beef.

Spike pulled out a chair, flipped it around, and straddled it. “Nah. I’ve my stomach set on something tastier by far.”

“1981 Chateau de Harris?”

“Eighty-one is an excellent vintage.”

Xander grinned and chewed and swallowed. The steak was excellent—cooked enough to be just barely warm in the middle, with Spike’s garlic-free spice mix sprinkled heavily on top. He wasn’t as enthusiastic about the salad, but his alpha was watching him carefully, making sure he finished it all. “Want to keep you healthy,” Spike explained as Xander made a face over a tomato. “Keep you with me as long as we can.”

Oh. When he put it like that.... So Xander finished his salad and washed it down with the glass of wholesome milk Spike had poured for him and then, when he was officially a member of the clean plate club, he gave Spike his best wolfish grin. “I feel fortified,” he announced.

“Do you now?”

“Eight essential vitamins and minerals. Everything a growing vamp needs.”

“’M growing, all right,” Spike said, standing up and rubbing at the denim over his crotch.

Xander snorted with inelegant laughter and Spike mock-growled at him. “Laughing at your alpha, are you? I reckon someone’s earned himself a bit of punishment.” Spike’s eyes were sparkling.

Xander jumped up. “Gotta catch me first!” And he ran.

He was aiming for the door but, as he knew would happen, Spike got there first and grabbed him around the middle, then heaved him over one shoulder. As Xander pretended to struggle, Spike swatted his ass a few times and carried him across the room and into the bedroom, dumping him onto the bed.

There went another shirt, this one shredded right off Xander by Spike’s strong hands. Xander hurriedly kicked off his shoes and wiggled out of his jeans before they got ruined too. He liked this pair. As soon as he was bare, Spike flipped him over and slapped at his ass. A brief and interesting interlude followed, during which Xander managed to get Spike out of his clothing too, and Spike decided he should kiss better the red marks he’d made. But in the middle of all that fun Xander suddenly realized he was kind of tired, so he was a little relieved when Spike finally sank into him—first his cock, then his fangs—and they both climaxed, and then Xander spooned behind Spike and Spike pulled the blankets up and they both fell soundly asleep.

[ Next Chapter](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/224885.html) 


	2. </strong> Gigabytes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   A new story in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1). Xander begins aging a decade each night. Can Spike and the others find the cause and fix it before it's too late?

  
  
  
**Entry tags:**|   
[biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/biteverse), [gigabytes](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/gigabytes), [hc_bingo](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/hc_bingo), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike%2Fxander)  
  
---|---  
  
 _ **Gigabytes (2/7)**_  
 **Title:**  Gigabytes   
 **Chapter:** 2/7  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:**  I'm not Joss  
 **Summary:**  A new story in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1). Xander begins aging a decade each night. Can Spike and the others find the cause and fix it before it's too late?  
 **A/N:**  Uses the [](http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/profile)[**hc_bingo**](http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/)  prompt aging. Banner by the amazngly talented [](http://sentine.livejournal.com/profile)[**sentine**](http://sentine.livejournal.com/) , and beta work by the wonderful [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) . The fic is complete and I'll post a chapter per day, travel permitting.

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Gigabytes&filter=all).

 **Forty**

 

Usually, Xander woke up first. He’d tumble out of bed and trek to the bathroom while Spike slid over, absorbing the last remnants of his boy’s heat from the bedding. Then Xander would grab something to eat and, more often than not, would heat a mug of blood and carry it into the bedroom, and Spike would get to have his breakfast in bed with the Naked Xander Show thrown in for entertainment. It was a brilliant way to begin a day.

But today when Spike awakened, Xander was still fast asleep and snoring like an asthmatic bulldog. Spike considered waking him for a quick tumble, but then decided against it. Xander had been stressed lately and had seemed tired the night before. Spike reckoned he could use a little longer kip. At least Kyna was gone for the day and wouldn’t be dragging Xander about, making him gild lilies or build fairy feeders or whatever sodding nonsense she had it in her head to fancy now. Sometimes Spike almost felt sorry for Angel. Almost.

Spike padded into the kitchen and warmed the blood himself, and as he drank it he fried up some bacon for his boy, swearing when the hot grease spattered on him. Perhaps cooking bacon in the nude wasn’t very wise. He was surprised when the bacon was ready and Xander still wasn’t up—he had reckoned the smell would have been enough—so he popped a piece in his own mouth and left the rest on a paper-towel-covered plate on the table.

He peeked in at Xander again. Still no signs of life. Right, then. He’d shower alone. He was feeling a bit sorry for himself. But the hot water felt lovely and he liked the scent of the sandalwood shampoo Kyna had bought them (although he would never admit that out loud) and he was in a better mood by the time he dried off. Perhaps they’d go out for that run tonight. Or perhaps just a quiet evening at home instead. Spike had been patiently trying to teach Xander the rules of cricket and they could give another lesson a go. Or, since the air was uncharacteristically clear, maybe they would just go up on the roof and stargaze.

Singing to himself, Spike wandered back into the bedroom to discover Xander still snoring away. “Oi! Sleepyhead! Rise and shine!” Spike launched himself onto the mattress, landing atop Xander’s blanketed form with a solid thud.

“Ow!” Xander howled, and Spike quickly scrambled off and away.

“Did I hurt you, pet?” It wasn’t as if he hadn’t executed that maneuver before.

Xander struggled to a seated position. “No, it’s just…I’m feeling really sore. I guess we were a little more athletic last night than I thought.”

Spike frowned. The previous evening’s activities had been quite sedate, actually. “Let me take a look at you, love.”

Xander sat obediently, shoulders slumped, while Spike stepped forward to examine him. But before Spike could even move the blankets away he exclaimed in shock: “Bloody hell!”

“What?! What’s wrong?”

“Your hair!”

Xander’s hands flew to his head. “What? What’s wrong with my hair?” He sounded panicky and Spike tried to get his own fear under control.

In as calm a voice as he could manage, Spike said, “It’s…it’s gone white.”

Xander squawked with alarm and nearly fell out of bed. Spike was right on his heels as he ran to the loo. Xander came to a halt in front of the sink, frantically running his fingers through his hair.

 It hadn’t gone all white. In fact, most of it was still that familiar almost-black. But sprinkled liberally among the dark were strands of white that had most certainly not been there the night before. “Oh, God,” Xander wailed, whipping around so quickly he almost smacked into Spike. “And look at my eyes, Spike. Those wrinkles are new, right?”

Xander had laugh lines beside both the missing eye and the good one. He’d had them for ages and Spike fancied them quite a bit. But now they were indisputably deeper and more pronounced and, in fact, Xander’s entire face looked a bit more…worn, Spike reckoned.

Xander appeared to have aged a decade overnight.

“What’s wrong with me?” Xander rasped, grabbing Spike’s shoulders.

Spike took a deep breath. “Dunno. Let’s…let’s get you dressed and fed and we’ll sort this, yeah?”

“But there’s something wrong with me!”

“We’ll fix it. We always do. But an empty stomach won’t help.”

“Neither will food,” Xander grumbled, but with a last look over his shoulder into the mirror, he allowed Spike to drag him back into the bedroom. Spike handed him some clean clothing—just a t-shirt and a pair of sweats—and noted with chagrin that the swats covering his boy’s bum, which he’d so enjoyed delivering the previous night, had now bloomed into purplish-yellow bruises. That wasn’t right either. Thanks to his status as a werewolf, Xander usually recovered from things like that nearly as easily as Spike did.

Xander pulled on his clothing and Spike got dressed as well. Then Spike guided him to the table and pushed the plate of bacon in front of him. Xander stared at it morosely while Spike went to pour him a big glass of orange juice. “I’m not hungry,” Xander said when Spike set the juice in front of him.

Setting his hand on Xander’s shoulder and squeezing slightly, Spike said, “I know. But have just a bit. Please?”

He knew Xander could rarely refuse him when he said please, and sure enough, Xander picked up a piece of cold bacon with his fingers and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed mechanically, swallowed, and washed it down with some juice. “There. I ate.”

Spike sighed. “Fine. We’ll save the rest for later.”

Xander nodded and stood. “Think we can figure out what’s wrong if we look through some of Angel’s books?”

“It’s a good place to start.” But they both made faces; neither of them much fancied research.

Still, they made their way downstairs and into Angel’s office. Most of his books had been in the basement and had survived the explosion, and he’d since been acquiring more. Wes had been adding steadily to the collection as well, so much so that the room was nearly out of space for Xander to build more shelves. Xander had recently been talking about converting some of the second floor rooms into a proper library, a scheme that had been met with enthusiasm all around. Even Giles had chimed in from England, ringing to say that he thought that having a decent assemblage in LA of books on supernatural matters was a brilliant idea. But first Xander had to finish the wedding preparations and the honeymoon suite, and that was taking bloody forever.

In Angel’s office, Spike helped himself to a glass of 21-year-old whiskey and then joined Xander in pulling likely-looking books off the shelves. For simplicity’s sake, Xander stuck to the ones in English, while Spike chose the ones in Latin, Greek, and other languages. But when Xander brought his stack to the table and opened the first one, he made a sharp, dismayed sound.

“What is it, pet?”

“I can’t read this!”

Spike peered over his shoulder at the pages. “That one’s in English, Xan.”

“Maybe, but it’s all blurry. Oh Christ, what if I’m losing the vision in my one eye? I couldn’t handle being completely blind!”

“Hold on. Can you see me all right? And things farther away?”

Xander looked about himself quickly. “Yeah, that’s all fine.”

Spike nodded, then opened the top drawer of Angel’s desk and pulled out a magnifying glass, which he brought over to Xander. “Try this.”

Xander held the glass over the page. “Yeah, okay, now I can read it.”

“You need reading glasses, pet.”

“I do not! The eye doctor said my vision was fine.”

“Your vision _was_ fine. But most blokes, when they turn forty or so they need specs to read. The eyes can’t focus as well close up.”

“But I’m not 40!” Xander wailed. “I just turned 30 last month.”

“I know.”

Xander buried his face in his arms. “I have that disease, that one where little kids look like old men. Pro-something.” His words were muffled.

“Progeria, love, and it’s caused by a genetic mutation. If you had it you’d have known ages ago and you’d be dead by now. It certainly doesn’t appear overnight.”

Xander raised his head up and glared. “Well, _something_ happened overnight, didn’t it?”

Xander was normally so strong. He’d kept his head when Spike had been cursed in Chicago, when Spike and Angel had been captured by Lindsey, and then again when Lindsey’s pillock of a brother had infected Spike. He’d stayed calm through battles big and small. He’d managed when he’d been forced to dream of that Xander in the alternate universe, the one with the pathetic life. He’d even adjusted remarkably well to becoming a wolf. Now, though, he appeared to be on the verge of breaking, and all Spike could do was gather him into an embrace and tell him everything would be all right.

 

***

 

Naturally, they didn’t find anything useful in the books, even though they spent the entire afternoon trying. As evening drew near, they both sat at the table. Xander looked exhausted and defeated.

“Perhaps we should ring Red,” Spike suggested. “Or Rupert. Or both.”

To his surprise, Xander shook his head. “Let’s wait, okay? Wes will be back soon and he’s good with this stuff, too.”

“All right. Hungry?”

“No.” Xander propped his chin on his hand and sighed. “I’m sorry to be such a pain in the ass, Spike.”

Spike got up and walked around the table to kneel beside him. “You’re not.”

“How come these things keep happening to us? I mean, there was that time last year when I almost got stuck as a wolf and you got shot and fucking buried. Why can’t we have a normal life?”

“Normal, pet? There is no way our life together could ever be _normal_.”

“Yeah, okay, you’re right. And I’d probably be bored if it was. Just, I’ve had enough with all the mystical shit, you know? Couldn’t we have some kind of magic moratorium? Can’t we declare this a curse-free zone?”

Spike tilted his head. “Would you rid yourself of the wolf? If you could, I mean?”

“No,” Xander said, shaking his head. “I like the wolf.”

“And sometimes these curses have turned out all right in the end. If it weren’t for them, you and I wouldn’t be together, nor would Angel and Kyna; and Rupert and his cowboy bloody well wouldn’t have either. We’ve had a bloody hard time of it, love, but there have been some big benefits as well. And we haven’t been bored.”

Xander managed a small smile. “No, we haven’t.”

Spike sat back on his heels. “Xan? Would you mind shifting? ‘M curious to see whether your wolf has aged as well.”

“Okay.” Xander stood and quickly stripped. Then, with only a small amount of effort, he changed form. He’d become quite good at it, although it hurt. How could it not, with bones twisting and remolding, and skin stretching and sprouting fur. It always hurt, but not for long.

As soon as he was furry, Spike automatically scratched him behind the ears and Xander swung his head sideways into Spike’s leg in the canine equivalent of a hug. Then Spike looked him over with a critical eye. His fur was always brownish-gray, but now it looked more grizzled and was a bit less glossy; there was a touch of white on his long muzzle as well. His body still rippled with strong muscles, but Spike thought he looked a bit more gaunt, more wiry. He remained an animal in his prime but, had he been a real wolf, the younger males would have begun testing him soon, seeing if they could usurp his place in the pack.

Xander swung his head to look at Spike with his good eye. There was still so much human intelligence there, even in this form. He whined interrogatively.

“Yeah, Xan, go ahead,” Spike said, and Xander smoothly shifted back so that he was once again a beautiful naked man. He pulled on his clothing, moving perhaps a shade more slowly than usual.

“Well?” he asked when he was dressed.

“Wolf’s older too.”

“Yeah. I could tell. I felt different. Stiffer, I guess.”

Spike leered at him gamely. “Stiff is good.”

 And he was rewarded with a smile. “Think we have some time before the troops arrive?” Xander asked.

In reply, Spike smiled back, pulled Xander close, and whispered, “Let me tell you how we'll start....”

 

***

 

Spike first made him eat some more: bacon and milk and an apple. He was less enthusiastic about the Pop-Tart Xander gobbled as well, but at least it was food. Theoretically.

After Xander’s meal—and two mugs of blood for Spike—they walked into the bedroom together. Spike wasn’t in the mood for anything too wild, not today. They needed comfort from each other’s bodies now. So he gently undressed Xander and with his own clothes still on, Spike knelt before him then nuzzled at his lover’s flaccid cock and heavy balls, burying his nose in wiry hairs to inhale deeply of his lover’s scent. Xander sighed and ran his fingers through Spike’s hair, teasing apart the gelled strands. “God, you’re so beautiful,” Xander murmured.

Spike rolled his eyes up to see Xander’s face. “Fancy me on my knees before you, do you?”

“I fancy you any way I can get you.”

“Hmm,” Spike hummed happily against Xander’s strong thigh, because he could never hear those words too often, could never be told too many times that Xander wanted him. Loved him.

Spike nuzzled a few moments more and ran his closed lips gently over soft skin until the flesh beneath that skin hardened and Xander rocked back slightly on his heels, exhaling noisily. But when Spike moved his hands around to caress Xander’s firm arse, Xander flinched a bit and Spike was reminded of those bruises. Cursing softly at himself, he rose to his feet. “Let’s make this horizontal, yeah?”

Xander didn’t argue; he simply took a few steps back and collapsed onto the mattress, then watched as Spike quickly shed his own clothes.

“I wish I could paint,” Xander said.

Spike climbed up onto the bed and straddled Xander’s supine body. He didn’t quite touch Xander, though, instead staying up on his knees and looking down. “Now, love? Kyna’s yellow walls can wait.”

“Not that kind of paint, dork. I mean Leonardo paint. Michelangelo paint.”

“You want a mural on the ceiling so you’ve something to look at while I ride you?”

Xander swatted his hip. “No, I like to look at _you_ while you ride me. But I wish I could paint you so I could show you how you look to me.”

Spike smiled. “Can see it in your eye, pet.”

“You can see your reflection in my eye? How come that works and a mirror doesn’t?”

“Not what I meant. I see how you look at me. The way…. Nobody’s ever looked at me like that before. As if….” He trailed off, not quite able to say it out loud. Xander looked at him like Spike mattered, like he was precious, like nothing else in the entire world was as important. Spike couldn’t say that without feeling a complete ponce, but perhaps Xander understood because he smiled and smoothed at Spike’s flank.

“I love you, Bleachboy.”

Oh, bollocks. Spike did not want to get all weepy now. So he curled his tongue behind his teeth. “Show me how much, whelp.”

And Xander did, not just with his work-roughened hands and his well-practiced cock, but with his wide smile and the way he never tore his gaze from Spike, not even when Xander climaxed.

 

***

 

They were dressed again and sitting in the lobby, lazily arguing over nothing at all, when Angel and Kyna and Wes returned. Kyna and Angel were glowering and pointedly not speaking to one another. Ah, another row then. Wes just looked tired.

“Hello,” Wes said absently as the newcomers approached. “Were you able to get the— Good lord!” He stared at Xander with astonishment.

Xander’s shoulders slumped and Spike wrapped an arm around him. “Vanquish your ghostie?”

“It wasn’t a ghost, it was— Xander, what _happened_?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Xander said sadly.

As Wes and Angel and Kyna crowded closer to stare, Spike explained. “He woke up like this today. He’s developed presbyopia as well.” Xander frowned at him. “Problems seeing close things, Xan.”

“Oh.”

“What the hell did you two do last night?” demanded Angel.

“Nothing!” Xander replied. “We went to see those goose demons and we played good cop/bad cop and they coughed up the goods and promised to be good little demons. And then we came home and went to sleep.”

“Shagged first,” Spike added helpfully, and Angel rolled his eyes.

“And you were fine when you went to sleep?” Wes asked.

Xander nodded. “Yeah. I mean, I was kinda tired, but it was late.”

“Do you feel ill?”

“No. But I’m not…I’m not as peppy as usual, I guess. Not even when I change.”

Wes looked pensive and everyone continued to stare at Xander, but nobody said anything for a few moments.

Finally, Xander scratched his neck uncomfortably. “We spent a few hours today looking at books, but we didn’t really find anything. There were no magic eyeballs or cursed loser brothers or anything.”

Spike narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t the Watchers again, is it? If those wankers are harming my boy—”

Kyna put a calming hand on his shoulder. “Spike, I doubt it’s the Watchers.”

“Then what is it?!”

But of course nobody knew.

After another lengthy silence, Wesley cleared his throat. “I’ll do some research myself. And if you don’t mind, I’ll ring Giles as well. And Willow.”

“Ring the bloody Pope if you like, Wes. Anything to suss out the problem. And fix it.”

Wes nodded and briefly clasped Xander’s shoulder. “I’ll do my best, Xander. I promise.”

“Thanks.”

Despite his obvious exhaustion, Wes turned and went into the office. That left Kyna and Angel still there, looking uncomfortable.

“Maybe you should get some rest,” Angel said. “Maybe if you get a good night’s sleep, when you wake up again you’ll be fine.”

“Or maybe I’ll be ready to get the senior discount at Denny’s.” Xander abruptly stood. “I’m tired of worrying. Spike, I’m gonna go work on Kyna’s suite.”

“But—”

“I am _not_ too frail to swing a hammer.”

Xander looked so ferocious and afraid, standing there with his jaw set, that Spike could only nod. “All right. I’ll keep you company.”

“Good.”

But as they started to walk off, Angel grabbed Spike’s arm. “Where’s the stuff?”

“What stuff?”

“The stuff you were supposed to get from the Fienars, brain trust.”

Spike was too preoccupied to bristle. “’T’s on a computer. It’s in our rooms, up on the fridge. You can get it yourself.”

Angel nodded.

Xander ended up working for several hours, sanding some ornate crown molding and then installing a ceiling fan with frosted glass lampshades shaped like tulips. Spike mostly watched, although he handed Xander things when he asked for them, and twice he fetched Xander bottles of cold water. But when Xander began to unpack a complicated-looking floor lamp from a cardboard box—the lamp seemed to be in about a thousand bits—Spike caught him about the waist. It was almost sunrise. “You’re knackered, love. Come upstairs.”

“I just want to put this together.”

“It’ll wait. Come to bed.”

“But—”

“This is your alpha speaking, pup.”

That ploy worked only rarely, but Xander nodded tiredly and unbuckled his tool belt. “Fine.”

They plodded slowly up the stairs together.

Once again Spike undressed Xander, who was swaying slightly on his feet, and then pulled off his own clothing. They climbed into bed. There was no sex this time, and as Spike tugged the covers over them, Xander looked at him, wide-eyed. “I’m afraid to sleep,” he admitted.

“I know.” Spike could offer little else than that acknowledgment, but Xander nodded slightly and closed his eyelid. Spike snuggled up very close until he was nearly on top of Xander and then, for their mutual comfort, he latched his lips to his favorite spot on Xander’s neck and began to suck gently. Xander fell asleep before he did.

 

[ Next chapter](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/225392.html) 


	3. </strong> Gigabytes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   A new story in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1). Xander begins aging a decade each night. Can Spike and the others find the cause and fix it before it's too late?

  
  
  
  
**Entry tags:**  
|   
[biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/biteverse), [gigabytes](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/gigabytes), [hc_bingo](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/hc_bingo), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike%2Fxander)  
  
---|---  
  
 _ **Gigabytes (3/7)**_  
 **Title:**  Gigabytes   
 **Chapter:** 3/7  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:**  I'm not Joss  
 **Summary:**  A new story in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1). Xander begins aging a decade each night. Can Spike and the others find the cause and fix it before it's too late?  
 **A/N:**  Uses the [](http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/profile)[**hc_bingo**](http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/)  prompt aging. Banner by the amazngly talented [](http://sentine.livejournal.com/profile)[**sentine**](http://sentine.livejournal.com/) , and beta work by the wonderful [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) . The fic is complete and I'll post a chapter per day, travel permitting.

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Gigabytes&filter=all).

  


 **Fifty**

 

He knew even before he opened his eye what he’d find. He could feel it in the ache in his back, and when he extricated himself from Spike and got out of bed he heard his knees and ankles pop in protest.

Spike woke up and blinked up at him, and Xander could see the dismay in his vampire’s face. “Oh, love,” Spike said.

Maybe Xander was a masochist, because he padded into the bathroom to stare at himself in all his naked and middle-aged glory. His hair had more gray than brown now, and the stubble on his face was grizzled as well. The lines next to his eyes were deeper and now he had wrinkles on his forehead, too. His jowls were a little saggy. He’d lost a lot of his muscle tone and gained a slight paunch and love handles. “Fuck.”

He couldn’t see Spike’s reflection when Spike came up behind him, of course, but he could certainly feel strong, cool arms as they snaked around him and clasped in front of him, and a smooth, solid chest behind his back. Spike’s soft cock nestled against Xander’s ass in a familiar way. “Don’t,” Xander said.

“Does it hurt?” Spike answered with concern.

“No. It’s just, I’m—eww.”

“You are not eww, Xan.”

“But I’m—”

Spike grabbed Xander’s hips and spun him around. “You could be a sodding year-old zombie and you would still be beautiful to me.”

Xander couldn’t help but grin. “You always say the sweetest things.”

Spike kissed him. Not a peck on the cheek either, but a real kiss, deep and passionate, and Xander felt Spike harden against him.

But Xander broke off the kiss and leaned into the crook of Spike’s neck instead. “Spike, if this keeps up at this rate—”

“It won’t,” Spike said, very firmly. “I’ll wager Percy has it sorted already. A bit of mumbo jumbo and you’re good as new.”

“But what if he hasn’t? What if we can’t fix this?”

“We will.” Spike patted Xander’s ass, much more gingerly than usual. “Put on some trousers and I’ll make you some breakfast.”

“Like what? Cream of Wheat with Viagra sprinkles?”

Spike pushed him slightly away and looked down at Xander’s groin with concern. “Tackle’s out of commission?”

“Tackle’s fine,” Xander said, and kissed the tip of Spike’s nose. “For now, anyway. But by tomorrow, who knows?”

Spike scowled unhappily and then turned to get his jeans. Xander dressed too, but he had to wear sweats because his jeans wouldn’t fit around his middle-aged spread. Grumbling to himself, he wandered into the main room and watched as Spike made him a sandwich from yesterday’s bacon. He loved Spike’s bacon butties, which included a fried egg and a slab of cheddar; just the sight was enough to raise an ordinary mortal’s cholesterol thirty points. Today Spike added a fresh sliced peach to the plate and some raw broccoli florets. There was a tall glass of milk as well. Even though he wasn’t especially hungry, Xander ate it all because he didn’t want to see that look of concern on Spike’s face. Spike didn’t even let him clear his own dishes away.

Xander knew as soon as they entered the office that there would be no miracle cure. Angel and Kyna and Wesley were all there, each with a pile of books, and they looked grimly at Xander and Spike as the two of them walked into the room. Xander collapsed heavily into a leather armchair but Spike began to pace.

“Nothing?” Spike demanded.

Wes shook his head. “No. I’m sorry. And…I see the process has continued. Are you quite certain you’ve no idea what caused this?”

“We told you! Had a natter with the Fienars, came home, ate, and shagged.”

“Did you eat anything unusual?”

“I made him steak and salad.”

“Could the steak have been enchanted or poisoned in some way?”

Spike shrugged. “Only if Von’s has wizards in the butcher department. And why the bloody hell would someone poison beef like that anyway? What would they have to gain?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps….”

But Xander zoned the conversation out at that point. He didn’t think Von’s had sold them magic meat. It had to have been something else, maybe some kind of cosmic joke on the loser who’d finally pulled together a decent life. Look! Harris has a fulfilling existence, a great home, and a loving, incredibly sexy vampire. It must be time to fuck him over! It was karma or kismet or something else that began with a k and wanted him to be miserable. It wasn’t the fucking steak, which had been juicy and tasty and had been cooked just right by his beautiful lover.

Xander tipped his head back on the chair and closed his eye and pictured Spike bustling around the kitchen two days ago, back when Xander had been young and healthy. And had Xander appreciated it then? No. He’d just sat there at the table, sculpting little mountains out of salt and pepper, clicking the dentist pen in and out, playing with the fucking Fienars’ stupid computer and—

Oh.

Oh _shit_.

And he must have said that out loud because when he opened his eye everyone was looking at him. Spike flew across the room and grabbed his shoulders. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I think…I think I might have an idea what happened. Sort of.”

Everybody else abandoned their books to stand around him. “What?!” said Spike.

“Um, remember when we came home that night? You were cooking dinner and I was waiting.”

“And?”

“And the laptop was there. The demon laptop. And I sort of…fiddled with it.”

“Fiddled?” Angel asked.

“Yeah. I was…curious, I guess. I turned it on and I clicked on a few folders and there were these symbols and things kind of scrolling across the screen. Now I’m wondering if maybe the computer did something to me. A spell.”

“Oh, good Lord,” Wes said, sounding eerily reminiscent of Giles. Spike’s mouth was hanging open while Kyna and Angel gaped at Xander like he was the biggest idiot they’d ever seen. Which, well, he probably was. Wes turned to Angel. “Do you have the laptop?”

Angel nodded. “Yeah. I was gonna deal with it later, after we figured out what was going on with Xander.”

“Well, get it!” Spike shouted, and Xander felt bad because it wasn’t Angel’s fault that Xander was a fucking moron.

But Angel only hurried over to his desk, where he pulled the laptop out of the bottom drawer. He carried it over and began to hand it to Wes, but then stopped. “What if it hexes you, too?”

“Just touching it should be fine. You and Spike haven’t been harmed.”

“Yeah, but we’re dead. Maybe it only works on the living.”

“I expect I’ll be safe at least as long as the machine’s turned off.”

Angel gave it to him.

“What will you do?” Spike asked.

Wes shook his head. “I’m not certain. More research to begin with. Now that we know the source of the problem it should be easier to find the solution.”

“We haven’t much time.”

“I know. I’m going to ring Willow. She has greater expertise with computers than I.”

There was some more conversation after that, but Xander didn’t bother trying to follow it. He just sat in the chair, his face sunk into his hands. After everyone else left to do…something—Xander didn’t know what—Spike gently urged Xander’s head up, then draped himself over Xander’s lap and wound his arm around Xander’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Xander said. He couldn’t look at Spike.

Spike brushed his lips against Xander’s temple. “It was bloody stupid of you. But then we all do stupid things now and then, don’t we?”

“But I know better than to screw around with magic shit! I learned that way back when I summoned Sweet.”

Spike chuckled. “And nearly became a demon bride, as I recall. Pet, you didn’t know the computer was mojoed. And even if you had…. I’m over a hundred years your senior and I still make mistakes. And look at the poof! Quarter of a millennium and he’s still dim more often than not.”

“So there’s no hope for me? Assuming I somehow survive this time.”

“There’s always hope, love. Hell, you’re already wiser than Peaches. You’re not the one marrying a daft Slayer.”

“No, my choices in love interests are much saner than that.”

Spike tickled under Xander’s right arm. “Git.”

 

***

 

Xander was restless. Spike too, so he kept haunting Wes, pestering him about whether there had been any progress in figuring out the problem. Wes was getting a little short-tempered, actually, and Xander so didn’t need to be in the middle of a Watcher-vampire snit fit. So he drew Spike into the lobby. “Let’s get out of here for a little while, Spike.”

“Billy’s?”

“Nah. Not in the mood for anything that public. Don’t want to explain why I look like my own father. How about we get my leash instead?”

Spike cocked his scarred eyebrow. “Weren’t you saying you needed Viagra?”

“No, and the leash is just for a walk. I want to stretch four legs.”

Spike nodded and made his way to the old reception desk, which had proved a handy spot to keep Xander’s collar and leash. Xander always felt pretty stupid wearing them, but not as stupid as he’d feel if he got hauled into the dog pound for leash law violations. So he pulled off his sweats and tee and, feeling self-conscious about his nudity in this condition, shifted. As always, the pain lasted only a few seconds and then he felt wonderful. Even tonight, when his hips ached and his paws were a little tender.

His alpha came over and gave him a long, critical look. “Don’t look much different,” Spike announced after a few moments. “You’d still scare Little Red right out of her riding hood.”

Xander wagged his tail. It was harder to think straight in this form, but the sound of his alpha’s voice was always welcome, not to mention the rich smells: leather, blood, whiskey, hair gel.

“Good pup,” Spike said, scratching that itchy spot between Xander’s shoulder blades exactly hard enough. He looped the collar around Xander’s neck, buckled it, and latched on the leather leash. “Heel,” he said with a smirk, and then they went outside.

The Hyperion wasn’t in a very interesting neighborhood. There were some fairly seedy apartment complexes and a few blocks of small businesses that gave payday loans or sent money to Mexico or made sandwiches or sold secondhand clothes. The businesses were all closed this time of night. There was an empty, weedy park with a few broken benches and a statue of some long-dead guy now liberally covered in bird crap. There was a used car lot surrounded by a chain-link fence. Nothing exciting or notable, nothing anyone would give a second glance as they drove by.

But Xander liked to prowl around there because the scents were fascinating. Traces of people who’d passed by, dogs and cats and wilder things like possums and rats, even an occasional demon. Each smell had a story to tell. There were food odors too, and intriguing bits of trash and chemicals and splashes of blood and gasoline and rotting vegetation and dirt and plastic and…well, everything. It was an entire world that didn’t exist for him when he was in his human form, and even Spike and Angel couldn’t match his canine olfactory skills.

Spike ambled patiently alongside him, just any old ordinary guy taking his dog for a walk, except the guy was a vampire and the dog was a werewolf. Ordinary.

As they walked, Spike talked. Not about anything particularly important because he knew Xander had trouble tracking speech when he was furry. Just sort of aimless ramblings about where they might hunt when Xander was cured, and whether a hot tub on the roof might be a good idea, and what the odds were that Kyna was going to make Angel completely barmy with her wedding plans, and how much of a ponce Angel was going to look brooding around his bride’s frilly floral nightmare of a suite, and if Spike and Xander ought to take a few days up the coast somewhere or maybe in the mountains. It didn’t matter what he said, really; his voice was deeply comforting to Xander, as were the gentle little tugs Spike gave to the leash now and then as if to remind Xander that they were connected.

As if Xander would ever forget that.

 

***

 

“You were correct, Xander. The Fienars placed a nasty trap in that file and it infected you.”

Xander looked at Wes incredulously. “You mean I caught a computer virus?!”

“Not precisely, but that explanation will do.”

Xander shook his head. This was more fucked up than he’d thought.

Angel huffed from his seat behind his desk. “It wasn’t actually aimed at you, Xander. In fact, it was probably supposed to attack me or Spike, and if it had, it would have dusted us.”

Panic raced through Xander’s chest. “Dusted?” he squeaked, clutching Spike harder.

“Yes,” Wes said gravely. “It’s a clever piece of work, really. It seizes on its target’s weaknesses. Had a vampire activated the spell, there would have been a sudden flash of sunlight, I expect, or perhaps consuming flames.”

“Had enough bloody flames,” Spike mumbled.

Xander squeezed him again. “Why didn’t it kill me quickly, too? I mean fire and I aren’t all that mixy either.”

“But you don’t _fear_ fire, do you?” said Wes.

“Um, no. Not really.”

Spike cleared his throat. “That night, on the way home, the boy and I…we were talking a bit about him getting older.” He shot Xander an apologetic look for betraying this small confidence, but Xander gave him an understanding smile in return. Spike continued, “I reckon that’s more than a coincidence.”

Wes nodded. “I believe you’re right. Fear of aging was conspicuous in Xander’s mind, and the magic picked up on that.”

“So if I’d been freaking out about silver bullets or getting splatted on the 405 instead….?”

“Then that’s what would have happened,” Wes confirmed.

Suddenly Xander was relieved he’d been worried about a slow death.

“I’m going to rip those bloody Fienars to tiny little shreds,” Spike growled.

“I get to help,” Xander chimed in.

“Yes, well, the mayhem’s lovely, I’m sure,” Wes said. “But we’ve some more pressing concerns now. Like curing Xander.”

“Okay, fine,” said Xander. “Cure me. What do I have to do? Run Norton Antivirus or something?”

“Well, there’s where the analogy fails, I’m afraid. You are not a computer.”

Now it was Spike’s turn to squeeze Xander and he did it hard enough to make Xander’s ribs creak in protest. “Then how do we do it?” Spike demanded.

Spike’s words were met with ominous silence. Nobody would meet either Spike’s or Xander’s gaze: Wes looked down at his book, Angel glowered at the empty whiskey bottle on his desk, and Kyna glared at Angel. But it was Kyna who finally spoke. “We don’t know,” she said softly.

Predictably, Spike erupted. “Well bloody find out!”

To Xander’s surprise, Kyna didn’t erupt back at him. “We’ve rung Willow and she’s on her way. Giles as well.”

Spike shook his head. “But they won’t be here until tomorrow.” He didn’t add, because he didn’t need to, that Xander would be another decade older by then. “Why hasn’t she simply zapped them here?”

“Because that would deplete her magic, and she’s quite likely to need her full strength when she arrives.”

Spike growled almost inaudibly—Xander could feel the rumble of Spike’s chest against him—but he didn’t argue with Kyna. She walked over and set a hand on Xander’s shoulder. She was almost as tall as he was and he could see the fine lines at the corners of her green eyes. “We’re doing our best,” she said.

“I know,” Xander answered. “I appreciate it. It’s my fuck-up, not yours.”

 She gave him a small smile in return. “But we’re family, aren’t we? We look out for one another.”

          
  “Strangest bloody family I’ve ever seen,” Spike muttered, but Xander could feel his vampire’s tense muscles relax a little, maybe with the reminder that the responsibility for fixing this mess didn't lie on his shoulders alone.

[Next chapter](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/225973.html)

  
  



	4. </strong> Gigabytes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   A new story in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1). Xander begins aging a decade each night. Can Spike and the others find the cause and fix it before it's too late?

  
  
  
  
**Entry tags:**   
|   
[biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/biteverse), [gigabytes](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/gigabytes), [hc_bingo](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/hc_bingo), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike%2Fxander)  
  
---|---  
  
_**Gigabytes (4/7)**_  
 **Title:**  Gigabytes   
 **Chapter:** 4/7  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:**  I'm not Joss  
 **Summary:**  A new story in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1). Xander begins aging a decade each night. Can Spike and the others find the cause and fix it before it's too late?  
 **A/N:**  Uses the [](http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/profile)[**hc_bingo**](http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/)  prompt aging. Banner by the amazngly talented [](http://sentine.livejournal.com/profile)[**sentine**](http://sentine.livejournal.com/) , and beta work by the wonderful [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) . The fic is complete and I'll post a chapter per day, travel permitting.

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Gigabytes&filter=all).

 

 **  
Sixty  
**

 

Xander had to get out of bed twice to piss; but when he stood blearily in front of the toilet, the urine would only trickle and drip. His prostate gland, which had previously been a pretty good pal, had suddenly turned on him. His back hurt too, and his knees were stiff. On the second trip to the bathroom, he glanced in the mirror as he washed his hands. His grandfather looked back at him: his hair had gone completely white and the wrinkles and jowls were more pronounced. Even his hands looked gnarled and knobby, with a few incipient age spots dotted here and there.

He slipped back into bed, trying not to wake Spike, but Spike pressed himself tightly against Xander’s body. “All right, pet?” he asked sleepily.

“Yeah.” Under ordinary circumstances, Xander wouldn’t have been able to resist Spike like this, with his hair all wild and curly and his body bed-warmed and pliant. But now he only sighed and then winced a little as Spike’s firm skin pressed against his own, which sagged unattractively.

“Cavalry will be arriving shortly.”

“That’s great,” Xander said without enthusiasm. He wasn’t all that thrilled about them seeing him—he looked older than Giles now—and he wasn’t especially convinced that they were going to find a solution in time.

Spike brushed his lips against Xander’s cheek. “How do you feel, love? Heart’s all right?”

“I guess so. How would I know? Do you figure the wolf part of me is making any difference at all now? ‘Cause Giles told me that weres usually stay pretty healthy and live a long time if they don’t get murdered by something.”

“Dunno. Want to see if the equipment still works?” Spike ran fingers down Xander’s chest and settled the heel of his palm on Xander’s hip.

“No!” Xander wiggled away slightly. “I’m gross, Spike.”

Spike huffed impatiently and sat up. He tried to pull the blankets down but Xander tugged them back up and a brief, furious tug-of-war resulted. Spike won of course, and then he quickly straddled Xander, seating himself just above Xander’s hips. Xander felt himself blushing as Spike raked his eyes across Xander’s face and then slowly down his chest and belly.

“You’re beautiful,” Spike pronounced eventually.

“I am not. And it’s dark in here.”

“And I’ve vampire vision, git. Can see you just fine. You. Are. Beautiful. You will _always_ be beautiful to me. Look. Look what you do to me.” He grabbed one of Xander’s hands and brought it to his own groin, where his cock was fully erect. Automatically, Xander wrapped his fingers around the firm organ and Spike hissed a little and thrust his pelvis slightly forward. “Just the sight of you, love. The warmth of your eye. The way your lips crook a bit. Those broad shoulders that have carried such weights. Your hands—I bloody love your hands. Your voice. And the _scent_ of you, Xan. Like sunshine and _wild_ and I could sodding eat you right up.”

As Spike spoke, he rocked gently into Xander’s grip and he stroked his hands up and down Xander’s torso, pausing now and then to tweak a nipple or tug at a hair. Xander was surprised to feel himself harden, to realize he was trying to lift his hips up a little to get some contact between his cock and Spike’s flexing ass.

Spike smiled evilly at him. If Xander hadn’t been aroused already, that smile would have done the job. It always did.

“Beautiful,” Spike said again, very firmly. Then he wiggled out of Xander’s grip and squirmed down the mattress until he was nosing at Xander’s groin, his ass sticking up attractively between Xander’s legs.

“Spike—” Xander began, but he stopped abruptly when Spike slid his lips around Xander’s glans. He slowly swallowed Xander down, using his free hand to tickle behind Xander’s balls, across his perineum and around the edge of Xander’s hole. Probably pleased with his victory, Spike waggled his rump and despite himself, despite everything, Xander had to laugh.

He stopped laughing soon, though, as Spike ministered to him with his usual single-mindedness, sucking and stroking and then oh-so-gently _inserting_ , so that for a few moments Xander forgot all his problems, forgot everything except the incredible sensations in his body and the knowledge that this magnificent creature loved him. Loved _him_.

With a guttural cry that was more wolf than human, Xander came.

Spike drained the last of his climax out of him, slid his mouth away, and gave the tip of Xander’s cock a tiny kiss. He smiled up at Xander with a smug grin that would have been insufferable if Xander hadn’t been floating down from a post-orgasmic high. “Want me to return the favor?” Xander asked.

“No need,” Spike said, lifting up onto his knees. His cock was wet and softening and his chest and belly bore white splatters. “See? Just the _taste_ of you, love.”

Okay, Xander was old and decrepit and he was probably going to die within the next couple of days, but he was convinced. Spike still found him desirable.

 

***

 

Willow gasped when she saw him. She tried to hide it but she couldn’t, and then she flung herself at him so hard it hurt. “Xan!” she sniffled into his chest.

Over her shoulder, Xander saw Giles frowning at him, probably considering cleaning his glasses. But Lindsey, all he did was leer and limp a few steps closer. “You age well, dude,” he said.

Xander gave him a what-the-hell look and Lindsey shrugged. “Got a thing for older men,” he said and glanced back at Giles, who actually blushed.

“I see you’re not so gimpy anymore,” observed Xander.

“Nope. Been doing a shitload of PT. And hydrotherapy. I bet I could even make it up to the fourth floor without being carried by a vamp.”

“Yeah, well, there will be no vamp-carrying opportunities anyway, because I fixed the elevators.”

Angel had been standing and watching the interchange, his arms crossed on his chest. He’d grudgingly come to tolerate Lindsey, but the former lawyer was still not one of his favorite people. Not that Xander could blame Angel, really. For his part, Lindsey seemed to bear no particular ill-will about the months they’d kept him captive in the cell in the basement. He’d told them once that he’d been kept in worse accommodations and anyway it had all turned out okay for him in the end.

Willow sniffled once more and finally pulled herself away. She gave Xander a wavery smile. “Hey, at least you’re not bald,” she said.

Spike pushed himself between them. “This is a lovely reunion and all, but you’ve come to work, yeah?”

Everyone nodded at that. Most of the group made their way to the office, but Spike and Xander and Lindsey remained in the lobby. Lindsey plopped himself down onto that weird round seat and looked around. “You’ve been fixing up the place.”

Xander nodded. “Yeah. Been doing some work here and there.”

“Looks good.”

“There’s a room on two for you guys. 214. It’s not real fancy or anything—I’ve been busy with Kyna’s dream suite—but it should be pretty comfy. It doesn’t have a kitchen though. You can use ours or the big one down here, or I bet Wes’d share.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve had a craving like you wouldn’t believe for decent Mexican. And some greasy American fast food. With _fries,_ not chips.”

“Did you hire a car?” Spike asked.

“No. We took a cab.”

Spike dug in his pocket, pulled out his keys, and tossed them to Lindsey. “Can take the van if you like. Bring Xander something back.”

“Shouldn’t Xander be eating oatmeal and Geritol? Maybe catching the early-bird special at IHOP?”

Spike rolled his eyes, but Xander actually chuckled a little. Not because Lindsey was especially funny, but because the teasing made him feel better. It couldn’t be hopeless if he was being teased, could it?

Lindsey left and then Spike and Xander hung around. Sometimes Willow or Wes or Giles would call Xander into the office and poke at him or wave crystals in front of his face or chant at him in languages nobody had spoken for two thousand years. But then they’d look disappointed and they’d shoo him back out again.

Lindsey came back with bags of deep-fried, trans-fatty goodness. Xander ate some. Even Spike picked nervously at the food.

“Has anyone asked the demons how to fix this?” Lindsey asked with his mouth full.

“Yeah,” Spike said, and Xander looked at him in surprise.

“When? When was there demon asking?” Xander demanded.

“Last night. After we went to bed. Angel and Kyna and Wes went.”

“And you didn’t care to share this with me? You didn’t think I might be a little bit interested in this, seeing as it totally relates to me and my fucking stupid life?”

Spike sighed. “We didn’t want you to go, pet.”

“Why? Afraid I’d fuck up even worse?”

“No. We didn’t want you in danger. You’re…not in your peak fighting condition.”

Which was true, Xander had to admit, but he pouted a little. “I wanted to beat the crap out of the Fienars,” he grumbled.

Spike patted his shoulder. “I know. Would’ve fancied being there myself. But time is of the essence, yeah?”

Lindsey had an enormous paper cup of Pepsi and he slurped noisily at it. “So I take it they didn’t find anything out?”

“No,” Spike said. “Bloody geese didn’t know anything. They’d paid a wizard for the magic and then killed him. Tossers.”

They finished eating and then Spike offered to retrieve their laptop so they could watch a DVD or something, but Xander had had enough of modern technology for the moment. So instead Spike unearthed a deck of cards and they sat at the small table in the big hotel kitchen, playing poker for pennies, interrupted periodically by the fruitless efforts of the others. Xander won all the pennies.

 

***

 

They played for hours, until Lindsey was practically snoring in his chair. “Jet lag,” he said apologetically when he dropped his hand of cards for the third time.

“Head on upstairs, Linds. We can hold down the fort here,” Xander said.

Lindsey stood. “Sorry. I feel kinda useless.”

Xander laughed harshly, “Welcome to the club.”

After Lindsey was gone, Spike glared at Xander. “You’re not useless and you know it.”

“Yeah, look at me. Doing a lot of good here.”

“Magic’s not your gig. Mine either.” Spike jerked his head towards the office. “None of those pillocks could hammer a nail straight, let alone fix up an entire bloody hotel and then turn around and fight demons and, to top it all off, shag a vampire senseless.”

“I think Kyna does pretty well with the vamp shagging, Spike, and she definitely kicks demons’ asses.”

“But can she install a ceiling fan or lay tile?”

“Probably not.”

Spike kicked at Xander’s foot. “Course not.” And when he smiled, Xander couldn’t help but smile back.

 

***

 

Everybody looked haggard when Xander and Spike wandered into the office to check on them. Giles was rubbing at his temples, Wes had what looked like a three-day growth of beard, Kyna’s hair had mostly escaped her ponytail, Willow was wilting in front of a computer, and even Angel had several buttons of his expensive shirt undone and his shoes off.

Xander said, “Get some rest, you guys. You’re not doing anybody any good like this.”

Willow frowned at him. “But in the morning you’ll be—”

“I know. But I’m wiped anyway. I need more sleep now. Go to bed and we can deal in the morning.” The way they all looked around guiltily, he could tell they wanted to take him up on his offer but they didn’t feel comfortable saying so. “Come on, guys. Giles, Lindsey’s waiting for you in 214.”

Still nobody moved. At Xander’s side, Spike made a put-upon noise. “Do as my boy says. Or we’ll snog until you leave.”

That worked. Apparently Giles was as squicked over Xander’s sex life as Xander was over his. And when he hurried out of the room with a mumbled good night, Willow followed soon afterwards—with hugs for them both—and then Angel and Kyna. Finally, Wes closed his book and stood and walked to the door. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Magic can be quite…specific. Willow’s knowledge is extensive and Rupert and I have some familiarity as well, but none of us is comfortable with this sort of spell. We haven’t placed many curses, you see.”

Spike said, “Why not try somewhere else, then? Other wizards, the sort that use dark mojo more often.”

“We’ll try in the morning. But most of those aren’t especially eager to speak with us.”

“So we need a friendly evil wizard,” Xander said.

“I’m afraid so.” Wes clapped him on the back. “We’ll resume the search in a few hours. We’ll find something, I’m certain of it.” But his expression wasn’t certain at all.

Alone in the office, Xander sagged into Spike’s welcoming arms. “You’re knackered, pet. Let me tuck you in.”

Xander was too tired and discouraged to argue.

[Next chapter](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/226527.html)   


 

 

  
  



	5. </strong> Gigabytes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   A new story in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1). Xander begins aging a decade each night. Can Spike and the others find the cause and fix it before it's too late?

  
  
  
  
**Entry tags:**   
|   
[biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/biteverse), [gigabytes](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/gigabytes), [hc_bingo](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/hc_bingo), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike%2Fxander)  
  
---|---  
  
_**Gigabytes (5/7)**_  
 **Title:**  Gigabytes   
 **Chapter:** 5/7  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:**  I'm not Joss  
 **Summary:**  A new story in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1). Xander begins aging a decade each night. Can Spike and the others find the cause and fix it before it's too late?  
 **A/N:**  Uses the [](http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/profile)[**hc_bingo**](http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/)  prompt aging. Banner by the amazingly talented [](http://sentine.livejournal.com/profile)[**sentine**](http://sentine.livejournal.com/) , and beta work by the wonderful [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) . The fic is complete and I'll post a chapter per day, travel permitting.

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Gigabytes&filter=all).

 **  
Seventy  
**

 

Spike stayed awake, watching Xander sleep, hoping that perhaps if he watched diligently the spell wouldn’t be able to work and Xander wouldn’t age anymore.

He hadn’t lied—Xander was still beautiful to him. How could Xander be otherwise? Even with his face worn and lined, his inherent strength and goodness shone through, as if Spike could see the man’s soul itself. This was the man who had refused to give up on his loved ones, who had stood up to Angelus when Buffy was vulnerable, who had used nothing but his love to talk Willow out of ending the world, who had saved a miserable vampire—more than once—and brought him love and happiness and the most wonderful years of his long existence.

So Spike didn’t mind watching him. Seeing his brow furrow a bit with troubling dreams, his chest move evenly up and down. Even in his sleep, Xander reached out for Spike, settling more peacefully as soon as they were in contact with each other. But as carefully as Spike watched, at some point in the wee hours of the morning everything went fuzzy. When he became aware again, it was past dawn and Xander was older, his hands looking frail atop the blankets. His skin seemed so thin now, as if it would tear easily. Spike wanted to wrap Xander in his arms and hold him and keep him safe.

Because he’d done such a bloody brilliant job of protecting his boy so far, hadn’t he?

Perhaps it would have been better if Xander had never come to Chicago, if Spike had simply dusted under the effects of the emotion curse Danny Vega placed on him. Xander had been doing okay on his own back then. If he hadn’t saved Spike, he wouldn’t have become a werewolf, he wouldn’t have come to LA, he wouldn’t have been messing about with the bloody Fienars and become infected.

But no. Spike’s stomach clenched painfully at the very thought of having missed these past years, of having missed Xander. More than once Spike had fallen asleep draped over Xander and silently thanking Danny Vega for cursing him, for setting in motion the events that had brought Spike and Xander together.

Danny Vega. Now, he was exactly the sort wizard they could use: friendly but not too white-hatted. Too bad the poor sod had bought it in the battle with Wolfram & Hart.

Spike sat up so quickly he came very close to toppling off the mattress. “Bloody _hell_!” he said out loud, so loud in fact that he woke Xander, who blinked blearily up at him.

“Spike? What’s wrong?”

Spike threw himself out of bed and scrambled around for the previous night’s discarded clothing. “Have an idea,” he said, pulling his t-shirt over his head.

“What?”

“An idea. A solution.”

Xander frowned at him. “Stop mumbling. I can’t understand you.”

Louder, Spike said, “Your hearing’s going, Xan.”

Xander groaned. “Great. Just great. First my eyesight, then I can’t piss right, then my ears…getting old really sucks.”

“Let’s go sort that then,” Spike yelled.

That got Xander up and moving, although he winced as he stood and his back remained slightly bowed. That bit of a potbelly he’d had a few days earlier—which Spike had secretly found quite endearing—was gone, and now he was too thin, with prominent ribs and jutting hipbones. His cock hung softly between his legs, no morning wood in evidence. Down for the count, perhaps. Spike handed him a clean tee and pair of sweats, and Xander had to steady himself on the chest of drawers as he pulled the trousers on. “I fucking hate this, Spike. Do you think getting old is easier when it creeps up on you instead of dumping on you all at once?”

“Dunno,” Spike answered, feeling strangely ashamed of his eternal youth. He didn’t _feel_ young all the time, even if he looked it. Hell, there were occasions when he felt bloody ancient. He gave Xander a quick buss on one cheek. “Let’s go fetch the others, love.”

“Why?”

“I’ve an idea. And I don’t want to repeat it—that will only waste time.”

 

***

 

They were gathered in the kitchen. Wes had made tea and Lindsey brewed himself some coffee. Lindsey must have done a bakery run as well, because there was a big pink box on the middle of the table, and everyone except Spike and Angel was clutching a donut.

“So? Spill,” Xander said. He had a few colored sprinkles at the corner of his mouth and Spike longed to lick them off.

Spike remembered to speak loudly so Xander could hear clearly. “’T’s Danny Vega. He dabbled a bit in darker magics. I reckon he might know how to rid you of this infection.”

Xander gave him a worried look. “Hey, I’m the one who’s gonna go senile at any minute. Danny’s dead, remember?”

“Of course. But since when has that been a problem? Peaches and Wes and I have all died. I’ve done it twice. And Buffy—she died twice as well, and there she is now, a mum of two.”

“We’re not bringing Danny back like we did Buffy! Cause that was all kinds of bad.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw Willow nodding.

“Yeah, Xan, I was there, remember? I know quite well what…what it did to her.” He frowned and tried to push away those memories. It wasn’t that he hadn’t loved her, because he truly had, even without a soul. But it wasn’t until he nearly raped her that he’d realized how wrong he was for her, how…how bad. He shook his head to clear it a bit. “That’s not what I’m proposing.”

“What are you proposing?” Wes asked then. Not accusing, just honestly wanting to know.

“I was thinking…just a bit of a conversation with him. Not bringing him back to life—the poor sod deserves his rest. Only a…a séance, I expect. A Ouija board. Or something like that.” He looked at Willow. “Could you manage that?”

She frowned and bit her lip. “Nooo…not exactly. I mean, we could do a séance, I guess, but when you talk to spirits that way you don’t usually get very clear answers. It’s sort of like a really bad connection on the phone. All echoey and static. Not a good way to get reliable specs about undoing spells.”

Spike tried to push back bitter disappointment. “But surely even poor communication is better than none?”

“Nuh-uh. Not with magics. I get a word a little wrong and instead of making Xander young again I’m turning him into a frog. Or, um, a rat.” She looked oddly guilty over that last statement. “Or worse. This woman who used to be in my coven, she was trying to do a spell on her own. A love spell. Easy-peasy, right? Except she forgot that Tuareg runes are written bidirectionally and she said a few of the words in the wrong order. Instead of getting this guy to fall for her she ended up sending him back to the Paleozoic Era. We found a way to bring him back, but it took a while, and he was never the same afterwards.”

“I don’t want to hang with dinosaurs,” Xander said a bit querulously.

Spike slumped onto a chair in defeat. He’d been so certain he was onto something.

But Willow stood and began to pace. She still had a pastry in one hand but she paid no mind as she dropped crumbs along the floor. “So bringing Danny here is out, and we can’t pick up the mystical phone and give him a call.”

“Can we text him?” Lindsey asked, but everyone ignored him except Giles, who shot him a look. Spike had the idea that old Linds was due for a bit of punishment and that the little tosser was actually asking for it.

Willow continued to think out loud. “And we can’t send anyone over to Danny’s turf because trips to the afterlife are usually pretty much one-way tickets.”

“Not for me, Red,” Spike said.

“Yeah, not yet. But maybe third time’s a charm for you, and then you’re stuck dead and Xan’s still here and that doesn’t do anyone any good.”

“Nobody is killing Spike,” Xander said very loudly and he grabbed Spike’s hand firmly.

Angel put down his mug of blood. “Look, we’re just wasting time. I’ve heard of this guy in New Jersey, he’s supposed to have a big library, and—”

“Wait!” Giles interjected suddenly. Clearly an idea had dawned on him, and Spike felt a spark of hope rekindle.

“Spike, do you recall when we sent you to that other Xander to fetch Wesley?”

“Hard to forget, mate.”

“I told you then that it was as if you were traveling across a bridge between worlds, between realities. A rather dangerous bridge.”

Spike nodded. “Yeah, I remember. You want me to cross another bridge?”

“Not exactly. But the spaces the bridges traverse, well, it’s quite hard to explain, but they’re Other. Not life nor death, not this universe nor another. Neither here nor there.”

“All right,” Spike said, although he didn’t really understand what the Watcher was going on about.

But apparently Wes did, because he became very excited. “Yes!” he said. “That’s _it_! Two dead people—sorry, Spike, no offense—could very likely pass into that space and interact for some time before returning to their respective homes.”

“They have to be dead people?” Xander asked. “They can’t be elderly werewolves?”

Wes shook his head. “No. The consequences of sending the living between dimensions….”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. It gets all end of the worldy.” Xander slumped in his seat.

“So sending Spike shouldn’t be a problem,” Wes began.

But Angel interrupted. “Send me.” Everyone stared at him. “Hey, I’m dead, too. Spike did it last time; I guess it’s my turn now.”

Kyna was going to protest, but Spike spoke first. “I’ll go. I…I appreciate the offer. But Xan’s my boy. Besides, your Slayer would dust me if anything interfered with her precious wedding. So I’ll go. But…cheers, Peaches.” And if his voice went a bit hoarse there at the end because he was touched that Angel would be willing to do this for him, for his Xander, well, everyone pretended not to notice. Angel nodded once at him, though, and Kyna visibly relaxed.

After a brief pause, Wes continued his thought from before. “Sending Spike should be relatively simple—you did something similar before, when he rescued me. But how do we…summon this wizard?”

“We text him,” Lindsey repeated, and this time Spike nearly expected Giles to turn the cowboy over his knee and give him a good spanking. Which Spike wouldn’t mind watching, actually, under different circumstances. But Lindsey stood. “No, I mean it. You guys forget, I’ve been dead, too.”

“It’s like a not very exclusive club, isn’t it?” Xander mumbled, probably louder than he’d intended.

Lindsey continued. “I been dead, so I got some idea how it works.” Spike noticed that when the man became excited his drawl intensified and his vernacular became a bit more down-home. “Vega’s probably in a better place than I was, but I bet some things are the same. We can send him an email.”

“They have email in heaven?” Willow asked incredulously.

“Well, they got in in hell. I mean, it’s not exactly email, but close enough. It’s mostly spam there, of course, and phishing scams. Nothin’ worse than gettin’ a thousand penis enhancement messages when you’re bein’ tortured and you can’t even—” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Anyway. Probably in heaven no one’s penis needs enhancing, but maybe they get messages, too.”

“We’d have to figure out how to send them….” Willow said thoughtfully and then she ran off, presumably to the office and the computers, her donut still in hand.

 

***

 

Spike lay on the bed with his head pillowed on Xander’s lap. That bit was Xander’s idea. Spike had been a bit afraid he might interfere with Xander’s circulation or something, but Xander insisted on that position and he hadn’t got any less stubborn in his old age, so there they were. Spike was naked, because apparently it would be too easy if the magics would allow him to stay properly dressed, but Xander had pulled a blanket up over him. Everyone else was standing about, looking anxious, except for Red, who was fiddling about with candles and scraps of paper and something that looked terrifyingly like an enormous purple vibrator.

Xander must have noticed the resemblance as well. “Uh, Will? What is _that_ and where exactly is it going?”

She glanced distractedly at the monstrosity. “It’s a Malverian Ladh talisman. It focuses energy,” she said, setting a squat white candle onto a dish.

“Yeah, I bet it does. But, um, it doesn’t need to be inserted anywhere, does it?”

Lindsey snorted out a laugh and Willow gave him and Xander dirty looks. “No. It’s gonna stay right where it is, Mr. Dirty Old Man.”

“I always figured I would be sort of a dirty old man,” Xander said thoughtfully, brushing a lock of hair out of Spike’s face with a slightly shaking hand. “You know, lurking in corners, leering at pretty boys and girls, shocking the youngsters with obscene jokes.”

“And snogging your youthful lover in public,” Spike added. “Don’t forget that bit.”

“No, Spike-snoggage is the most important part,” Xander agreed, and traced a finger along Spike’s scarred eyebrow. “Probably with gratuitous groping thrown in for good measure.”

God, Spike loved that man.

After what felt like ages, Willow was ready. The bystanders took a few steps back and Spike could feel Xander’s bony body go very tense beneath him. “It’s fine, pet. No worries.” He wished he could have whispered a few private words, but Xander wouldn’t have heard them.

But maybe the words weren’t necessary, because Xander smiled down at him. “Hurry back, Bleachboy, or I’m coming after you and dragging you home, apocalypse or not.”

Spike nodded.

Willow hummed some sort of discordant chant and waved her hands about like she was stuttering in sign language. As abruptly as the lights going out, Spike was gone.

 

***

 

“Spike! Man, it’s good to see you again!” Danny Vega rushed over and gave Spike one of those half hug, half handshake things. To Spike’s considerable relief, they were both clothed, although Spike was wearing an uncomfortable suit that had last been on William’s body in 1880, and Vega was wearing the khaki trousers and casual blue button-down he’d died in during the battle at the old drive-in.

“Wow,” Vega said when they pulled away from each other. “Real old school, huh?” He waved his hand at Spike’s outfit.

“Victorian,” Spike shrugged, hoping most sincerely that when he dusted he would not have to spend eternity dressed as a ponce. He stuck his hand up to check his hair and then swore—too long and curly, no gel, and most likely, no bleach. “Bugger.” Then he looked about. He’d expected something, well, otherworldly. Alien. But instead they were a space that looked very much like an airport terminal waiting area, plastic chairs and all, only without the big windows overlooking the runway. Nobody was there except him and Vega.

“So it’s not very often us folks in the afterlife get messages from the still living,” Vega said. “It was kinda cool.”

“’M not living, mate.”

“Semantics, dude. You’re a lot more lively than me. So what’s up? I take it you didn’t just want to chat.”

“Yeah. We need your help.”

Vega had been smiling, but now he frowned with concern. “Is it Xander? What’s wrong?”

Spike felt a stab of ridiculous jealousy. Xander had kissed Vega before he’d kissed Spike. If things had been a bit different— But no. Xander had chosen Spike and Vega was dead and now he was willing to help. So, as succinctly as possible, Spike told him about the Fienars and the laptop. Vega’s frown grew more pronounced as the tale progressed.

“How old is he now?” he asked when Spike was finished speaking.

“Seventies, I expect.”

“Crap! Spike, you know time is really funky here. He could be—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“It’s not a bad thing, you know. Being dead, I mean. It’s not the same as living, but it’s good. Peaceful. Happy.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard. And my boy will be there someday. Me with him, I hope. But not now—it’s too soon.”

Vega nodded. “I grew up in this little tiny town in Texas. Dusty and hot and nothing to do. Not a whole lotta love for maric  
ó  
nes or brujos or anyone a little bit different. I took off for the Windy City as soon as I could fly and I never regretted that. But you know, sometimes I used to think back on my hometown and I’d miss it, just a little bit. Dying’s kinda like that. So you don’t wanna rush that trip to Chicago, you know? You’re gonna end up there eventually anyway.”

“So heaven is a big post-industrial city with bloody horrible winters. Lovely. Vega, can you help?”

The man nodded again, slowly this time, pensively. “Yeah, I think so.” He scratched at the back of his head. “It’s not easy lifting that kinda hex. And I’m not sure…even if it works, I’m not sure if it’s gonna return him like he was when he got infected or simply slow down the aging where it’s at now.”

Spike had been prepared to hear that. “I’ll take any extra minutes I can get with Xander. Mind you, I’d prefer he be completely cured, but if all I get is another few years, even a few more months…I’ll take that.”

Vega’s smile returned. “I gotta admit, when I found out Xander had fallen for you, I couldn’t see why. I mean, other than the obvious.” He waved a hand to indicate Spike’s face and body. “But I thought, why a vampire? Xander—he’s special. He could…he should have someone else special to love him. Now I see he has.”

Spike had no response to that other than a brief nod.

“Okay. Let’s get you back. Xander’s waiting and this place sucks. Here’s what you gotta do.”

And Vega told him. Spike listened very carefully and made him repeat it twice, until Spike was certain all the details were fast in his mind. Then they embraced again, because even if Vega had kissed Xander first, he’d died for their cause and then come back to help again. Even Spike had to admit that was enough to redeem a bloke.

“Good luck, man,” Vega said. “And tell Xander I said hi.”

“I will. And you…enjoy Chicago, yeah?”

Vega smiled broadly, flashing his white teeth, and then everything went black.

[Next Chapter](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/227214.html)   


 

 

  
  



	6. </strong> Gigabytes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   A new story in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1). Xander begins aging a decade each night. Can Spike and the others find the cause and fix it before it's too late?

  
  
  
  
**Entry tags:**   
|   
[biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/biteverse), [gigabytes](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/gigabytes), [hc_bingo](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/hc_bingo), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike%2Fxander)  
  
---|---  
  
_**Gigabytes (6/7)**_  
 **Title:**  Gigabytes   
 **Chapter:** 6/7  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:**  I'm not Joss  
 **Summary:**  A new story in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1). Xander begins aging a decade each night. Can Spike and the others find the cause and fix it before it's too late?  
 **A/N:**  Uses the [](http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/profile)[**hc_bingo**](http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/)  prompt aging. Banner by the amazingly talented [](http://sentine.livejournal.com/profile)[**sentine**](http://sentine.livejournal.com/) , and beta work by the wonderful [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) . The fic is complete and I'll post a chapter per day, travel permitting.

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Gigabytes&filter=all).

  


 **  
Eighty  
**

 

He was back in his own bed. He could see that straight away. Hanging on the wall opposite were some of Angel’s sketches—drawings of Spike and Xander and Xander’s friends—in frames that Xander had built. A photo of Buffy and her daughters was perched atop the chest of drawers, and another of Red and that girl she’d been dating: a slightly plump bird with a cute upturned nose that bore a sprinkling of freckles.

And William’s poncy, scratchy suit was gone and Spike was naked again; he noticed that Willow was blushing and he pulled the sheets up over his waist.

But… “Where’s Xander?!” He tried to get out of bed but was struck by a wave of dizziness and fell back on the mattress.

Willow put a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. “He’s in the bathroom, Spike. They’ll be out soon. He’ll be really relieved to see you.”

“ _They_ ’ll be out soon?”

Her mouth worked. “Angel’s in there with him. Xan, um…he kinda needs some help right now.”

Spike managed to wiggle free of her palm and to get his feet solidly on the ground without falling down. “How long?” he demanded. “How long was I gone?”

“It’s been over 24 hours.”

“Fuck!” Heedless of his nudity, Spike ran for the loo. Both Xander and Angel looked at him, startled, when he flung the door open. Xander was half propped against Angel and Angel was pulling sweatpants up Xander’s skinny flanks. Spike growled and shoved Angel out of the way, catching Xander’s weight in his own arms.

“You’re back!” Xander said. His voice was thin and reedy. An old man’s voice. “Are you okay?”

“’M fine. But you—”

“Yeah. Look, Angel was just helping me take a piss and I thought that the awkwardness level was set on max until my naked boyfriend burst into the room.”

“Love, I’m sorry. I was as fast as I could be but the time differentials—”

“I know, Fangface. Hey, could you help me back to bed? Legs not working so great. And maybe stop flashing everyone and pull on some pants?”

Spike kissed Xander’s wrinkled face. “Have to give the masses a thrill now and then, pet.” And he nearly carried his boy back into the main room and set him gently down on the mattress. The others must have arrived while they were in the loo, because there were Lindsey and Wes and Giles and Kyna, standing just inside the room and panting as if they’d run. Most of them were carefully avoiding looking at Spike, but not Lindsey, who leered and then winked. Spike rolled his eyes and pulled on a pair of jeans.

“Was Vega there?” Xander asked. “Is he all right?”

“Well, he’s dead, but yeah. He seems happy enough. He sends his best.”

“But did he have the bloody cure?” Giles demanded.

“He did.” Everyone in the room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Everyone except Xander, that was, who looked at Spike skeptically through one rheumy eye. “What is it? ‘Cause from the look on your face it’s not gonna be a simple abracadabra.”

Spike sat on the mattress and took one of Xander’s arthritic hands in both of his. “No. It’s…it was a computer hex, yeah? So it’ll take computers to cure it.”

“Told you! We run an antivirus program, right?”

“Not quite. We _are_ the antivirus program.”

“Huh?”

“Red here is going to have to…to digitize us. You and me. Our essences, our…our souls, I expect. And we’re going to have to be uploaded into that bloody laptop so we can fight the virus and neutralize it.”

Xander frowned down at his wasted body. “Spike, I couldn’t fight a sleepy kitten right now. I can’t even stand on my own.”

“That’s only your body, pet, not you. You are still as strong and brave as ever. Our bodies will stay here—and we’d best hurry, because yours will continue to age.”

“What happens if we lose the fight inside the computer? Because that’s a possibility, isn’t it?”

“If we lose, we die. Your body will die soon as well. And mine—just an empty shell, I reckon. Someone can stake it.”

Xander locked gazes with him and nodded. It was the same as their usual agreement when they entered the fray: victory or death. Kept things simple. Xander didn’t even bother trying to talk Spike out of going, because they both knew that Spike would not let Xander make this journey alone. But that reminded Spike of something important. “The wizard said three of us could go. Two would be all right, but three would improve the odds. Four wouldn’t work—something about overloading processors. So if someone fancies joining us—”

“I’ll do it,” Willow said immediately.

Spike shook his head. “We need you here to supervise the hocus-pocus, Red.”

Angel stepped forward, but as he opened his mouth, Giles said, “I’ll go.”

Even Lindsey looked shocked over that, and he reached out and put his hand on Giles’s arm. Giles gave him a fond smile, then turned to the rest of the assembly. “Physical strength isn’t an issue in this case, and perhaps some small knowledge of magic might come in useful.”

“You don’t have to do this, Rupe,” Lindsey said softly.

“Yes I do. I haven’t done much fighting of late, but I used to be quite good at it. And…I want to do this. For Xander.” He cleared his throat and looked away, and a slow, pleased smile spread across Xander’s face.

“Thanks, G-Man,” he said.

Giles nodded uncomfortably. “It’s settled, then. And I believe the sooner the better. Unless you need some time to recuperate from your last journey, Spike?”

In truth, Spike wanted a cuddle with Xander, alone and in their own bed. He wanted to suckle on his favorite bit of Xander’s neck. But there wasn’t time. “’M fine. Let’s go.”

So once again, everyone gathered around the bed. This time they all remained fully clothed, at least, and instead of a mystical dildo Willow held the cursed laptop. Spike had given her Vega’s instructions and she’d nodded eagerly. “Piece of cake. I mean, I’ve never done exactly this before but I understand the principle. See, everybody’s got this unique code, kind of like DNA, and you just have to translate that code into binary and then—”

He’d held his hands up in surrender. “Fine. Fine, Red. I trust that you know what the bloody hell you’re doing.”

So now here they were, with Xander lying down because that would be easier on his body, and Spike holding one of his hands while Giles held the other. Lindsey’s usual smug look was gone, and instead he frowned anxiously at his lover and then flung himself forward for a tight embrace and a slightly desperate snog. Xander made a sort of _meep_ sound and turned his head quickly away, and when the kiss was over, Lindsey whispered in Giles’s ear—loud enough for vampire ears to hear—“Come back and I’ll finish that song for you, Rupe.” They’d always seemed such an unlikely couple to Spike. But then back in Sunnydale, who would have predicted him and Xander?

Willow gave them what she probably reckoned was an encouraging smile, but Spike could practically see her knees shaking. Then she set the computer down on the mattress beside him and started typing quickly.

At first, nothing happened. But then Spike felt an odd sort of stretching and flattening sensation. It wasn’t painful, but it reminded him a bit of a cartoon character being run over by a steamroller. He could still feel Xander’s hand, though, clutching his very, very tightly, and that was comforting. The lights dimmed and the sounds faded until his surroundings were pitch black and completely silent, and something was picking him apart at the seams and folding him and stacking him into neat little columns, all fat zeroes and skinny ones. He recognized Xander’s pattern there as well, right beside his, and he grabbed it, intertwining them, and from somewhere else Giles did the same until they were one unit. Still three separate identities, but unified.

Time passed.

It seemed like years, or decades perhaps. It wasn’t unpleasant, really. There was a constant sense of movement, and a small buzzing underneath that felt good. Not in a sexual way, but it was energizing, like drinking Slayer’s blood or running with a wolf under a full moon. Willow had warned them that there were time differentials here, too, that as incorporeal beings what felt to them like years might truly be only a split second or two in the world outside the computer.

And then, after an inestimable period which Spike and Xander and Giles spent as raw data without form and with only rudimentary thought, a landscape began to appear about them. Vega had described this process. He said it was their brains trying to make sense of their new existence, to translate it into a form that they could better comprehend. The landscape was flat and featureless, the ground black and slightly slick, like obsidian, the sky above them dark and full of flashing green lights. Xander and Giles stood with him; they were still holding hands. Spike was wearing his usual, duster and all. Giles looked to be in his twenties and he wore blue jeans and a white t-shirt and black boots very like Spike’s. And Xander—he was young again. Late twenties. He was in blue jeans as well, and that abominable Spongebob shirt he’d bought a while back, and on which Spike had “accidentally” spilled some paint. He looked fully human but he smelled like wolf. Something was very odd about him, though, and it took Spike a moment to realize what it was.

“Your eye!” Spike exclaimed.

Xander let go of Giles’s hand to feel at his face. “Christ,” he said. “This is really weird.” Because his left eye was back, a hazel-brown match for the right one. And then he seemed to notice Giles. “Wow. You’re looking pretty Rippery there.”

Giles looked down at himself and smiled. “I expect this is how I imagine myself looking when I go to battle.”

“I always thought the tweed was pretty scary myself. And the bowties.”

“What about that horrible green jumper? That oversized lumpy one he wore for ages when he was having his ‘Oh dear, my Slayer’s growing up’ crisis,” Spike said.

Xander shuddered. “Yeah, I remember that one. Or what about—”

“Neither of you is in any position to criticize my wardrobe,” Giles said sternly, but with the hint of a smile. “As if animated undersea creatures and radioactive hair weren’t enough, need I remind you of Hawaiian shirts?”

Xander snickered.

“Enough,” Spike said. “We’ve a task to complete.”

The others nodded and they began to trek across the plain. After they walked for a long while and saw absolutely nothing, Xander stopped. “Hey, guys?”

They stopped too. “What?” Spike replied.

“If this place is just a construct and doesn’t really exist in physical space, how come we gotta go hiking? I mean, why not just sort of wish ourselves wherever the virus is?”

Spike and Giles exchanged sheepish glances and Giles cleared his throat. “That’s, erm, that’s an excellent idea.”

Xander beamed.

They all concentrated for a moment and then the virus appeared, slowly approaching them from the horizon.

“What the hell?” Xander exclaimed.

Giles heaved an enormous sigh. “The virus doesn’t have a physical manifestation. Like our landscape, this is a product of our imagination.”

“I did _not_ imagine that!” Xander said. And he turned and glared at Spike.

Spike hunched his shoulders a bit sheepishly. He hadn’t meant to do this. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Sorry? We’re fighting to save my life and you’re imagining giant, pretty, naked guys?”

“They’re not giant, pretty, naked guys,” Spike said wearily. “They’re Davids.”

Xander blinked. “Huh?”

“It’s…you kept talking about computer viruses, yeah? And I remembered that one virus that was in the news quite a bit, back in the '90s. Michelangelo. And that made me think of one of the artist’s famous works, and….”

“And I expect we should be relieved we don’t have to fight the Sistine Chapel,” Giles said.

“Okay, fine. We’re gonna fight Davids. How do we fight fucking statues?” Xander sounded a bit hysterical as the Davids marched closer. There were several dozen of them and their footfalls made the ground shake.

Spike shrugged. “Carefully. They have slings.”

“That’s just great, Spike. You couldn’t have imagined, say, worms? I can fight worms. Or what about the Anna Kournikova virus? Nothing too deadly about tennis balls. Or—”

“Do be quiet!” Giles snapped. “They’re getting closer. Remember we can provide ourselves with whatever weapons we deem appropriate.”

“Right, then,” Spike said, and a sledgehammer materialized in his hands. He swung it experimentally. Nice and solid.

“Sledgehammer? Why not semiautomatic rifles? Or grenade launchers?”

Giles answered for Spike. “Because bullets might bounce off stone and injure one of us, and because we don’t wish to do damage to our environment or we might all be destroyed. Remember, any damage done to these manifestations of ourselves will affect our physical selves as well.”

 Xander scowled a moment more and then created a hammer of his own. Giles quickly followed suit.

“David’s not very well endowed, is he?” Xander observed nervously.

“You’re checking out the statues’ tackle, pet?”

“Can’t really help it, can I? It’s all just kinda…hanging out there. Repeatedly.”

“Maybe the bloke’s cold.”

“Well, he is made of marble.”

Giles rolled his eyes. “Would you two concentrate on the important things? The size of our adversaries’…equipment…is not especially vital right now."

He was right of course, but their banter had relaxed Spike a bit, and Xander was grinning hugely the way he did before some of their best battles. He was grinning like a wolf. He swung his head about, winked at Spike with his restored eye, and let loose with a blood-curdling howl. Spike joined in with a roar and even Giles let loose with quite a credible war whoop. They ran toward the Davids.

The Davids all stopped, yanked the slings off their shoulders, and placed stones into their weapons. Then they began to swing. “Duck!” Spike shouted.

But when the volley of stones got very near to them, they hit some sort of invisible barrier and fell to the ground. Despite their stone faces, the Davids looked startled. So did Giles and so, he expected, did Spike. “What the fuck?” Spike said.

“Star Trek shield,” Xander said smugly. “Nobody said we couldn’t use defensive weapons.”

Despite their situation, Spike dragged Xander into a quick embrace and gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Brilliant, love.”

“Yes, good thinking, Xander. But you’re going to have to lift the shield so we can engage them.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Xander said, pulling away from Spike. “It’s gone.”

“And remember, every action we take here uses energy, and our energy resources are finite.”

“Gotcha.”

And that was the last anyone spoke as the Davids continued to close the distance between them, each of them scooping out a handful of its own mass to use as more ammunition. Spike, Xander, and Giles raced forward, hoping to get too near for the slings to be helpful. When the statues realized what was happening, they dropped their slings to the ground and lumbered forward as well.

Spike, Xander, and Giles began to dart about, swinging their hammers as they went. The Davids were nearly three times as tall as them and much, much heavier. Giant stomping feet could easily disable or even kill. But the Davids were also slower than their smaller adversaries and they moved in unison, which made fighting them considerably easier.

All of the statues swung their arms, and one of them caught Xander across the back, sending him flying. But Xander scrambled quickly to his feet—he’d managed not to lose hold of his hammer—and swung back, taking a big chunk out of a David’s knee. That David stumbled and collapsed, taking two of its brethren down in a crash that shook the ground. None of the fallen statues got up again.

“Woo hoo!” Xander cried; Giles answered with something that sounded suspiciously like “Yee ha!” And then all three of them were swinging as furiously as they could, hammers making solid impacts against marble, each man’s blow resonating solidly through his body. The Davids continued to move and the men had to feint and duck and dash about to avoid them, bits of stone flying everywhere.

Another of the Davids toppled, this one nearly landing atop Giles, who zoomed out of the way just in time.

The Davids kicked and one massive stone foot connected with Spike’s chest, cracking ribs and sending him sprawling onto his back. He managed to roll out of the way before he got stepped on. “Spike!” Xander screamed.

“’M all right,” Spike yelled back, and although it hurt like bloody hell, he regained his footing and continued the battle.

Sounds carried strangely in this place. There were thudding footsteps and the crash of metal against marble, there were panting breaths and grunts of effort or of pain, and underneath it all an almost inaudible humming, like a swarm of bees far away. Spike swung and feinted and swung again, and beside him Xander and Giles did the same, and the Davids fell, one by one. But there were loads of Davids and Spike was tiring. His muscles burned and his cracked ribs dug in like blades; the hammer grew heavier and his movements slower and clumsier.

Xander swore when he was knocked down by a statue; Spike gave him a hand up and they both very narrowly missed a colossal foot. “Running out of steam,” Xander panted.

“Me too.”

But they kept on fighting, because what else could they do?

Spike yanked Giles out of the path of a David, and then turned slightly too slowly to avoid the very solid hand—much bigger than his head—that smacked into the side of him, crushing bones and sending him helplessly flying. This time when he fell he couldn’t get up again, couldn’t even scoot out of the way of the foot that was descending over his face.

“Spike!” Xander screamed again, and he grabbed Spike’s leg and pulled him out of the way just in time. “Giles! Spike’s down!”

Sheets of blood ran down Spike’s face as he tried to lever himself up a bit. But he could make out Xander’s terrified expression and, just past him, Giles had gone very white. Giles avoided a kick and set his jaw. “Get back!” he bellowed.

“But—”

“NOW!!”

Xander stopped arguing and Spike didn’t have the strength. Xander dropped his hammer, scooped Spike into his arms, and threw him over his shoulder. Then he ran. Not very far, because Xander was exhausted and winded and Spike was twelve stone of dead weight. Xander ended up collapsing to his knees, dropping Spike in the process. They both turned around in time to see Giles duck under a David’s leg. Giles glanced up quickly at them, nodded, and shut his eyes.

“No!” Xander shouted, just as the ground under the statues—and under Giles—erupted in ferocious flames—flames hot enough to crack marble and to melt flesh. Giles crumpled. “NO!” Xander roared again, and before Spike could grab hold of him, Xander darted forward toward the flames.

“Xander!!” But Spike couldn’t move, could only watch helplessly as Xander ran to Giles. A matter of will, Spike thought, and he used the last of his failing energy to place a protective shield—a Star Trek shield, his boy had called it—around Giles and Xander. He lost consciousness before he could tell if it had worked.

[Next Chapter](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/227601.html) 

 

  
  



	7. </strong> Gigabytes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   A new story in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1). Xander begins aging a decade each night. Can Spike and the others find the cause and fix it before it's too late?

  
  
  
  
**Entry tags:**   
|   
[biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/biteverse), [gigabytes](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/gigabytes), [hc_bingo](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/hc_bingo), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike%2Fxander)  
  
---|---  
  
_**Gigabytes (7/7)**_  
 **Title:**  Gigabytes   
 **Chapter:** 7/7  
 **Pairing:**  Spike/Xander  
 **Rating:**  NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:**  I'm not Joss  
 **Summary:**  A new story in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1). Xander begins aging a decade each night. Can Spike and the others find the cause and fix it before it's too late?  
 **A/N:**  Uses the [](http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/profile)[**hc_bingo**](http://community.livejournal.com/hc_bingo/)  prompt aging. Banner by the amazingly talented [](http://sentine.livejournal.com/profile)[**sentine**](http://sentine.livejournal.com/) , and beta work by the wonderful [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/) .  
Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Gigabytes&filter=all).

   


 **  
Thirty and Holding  
**

 

Xander stood and looked down at the two most important men in his life: his beloved vampire and, in all the ways that counted, his father. They lay side by side on the big king bed, unmoving, eyes closed. Willow and Wes were chanting over Giles, trying to make the horrific burns disappear, and Angel and Kyna were taking turns next to Spike, pressing their bleeding wrists against his mouth and massaging his throat so he would swallow. The side of Spike’s head was crushed and his arm and shoulder were at unnatural angles.

But Xander just stood there, helpless and wobbly-legged. Lindsey was right beside him, his uneven breaths sounding thin and whistling. “It must’ve worked,” Lindsey whispered. “You’re cured.”

Xander had barely noticed. “But, God, look….”

Lindsey took Xander’s arm. “Let’s get outta the way. You need to sit down.”

“But—”

“You ain’t doin’ ‘em any good now. C’mon. They’re in good hands.”

Xander would have put up a struggle, but his legs were going to give out any minute and he didn’t want to distract any of the people who were caring for the injured. So he allowed himself to be towed into the other room and plopped onto the loveseat. Lindsey disappeared for a minute and then returned with a bottle of beer and a tall glass of OJ. “Here,” he said, handing the juice to Xander.

“Hey. My beer.”

“No way. You need something more substantial now. Spike’ll skin me if you collapse, too.”

“If he survives. And Willow’s the one who skins people.” Xander’s voice sounded flat even to his own ears. He took a sip of the juice.

“He ain’t dust, and that means he’s gonna heal.” Lindsey sat down next to him.

Xander wasn’t as convinced. And Giles…. Xander set the glass down on the end table, buried his face in his hands, and moaned. “All my fault.”

“Look, man. This time you fucked up and needed rescuing. I been there. Spike’s been there. Rupert, too. Not to mention Wes and Willow. They got your back and you got theirs. It’s…it’s your family, right?”

Even through his distress, Xander could hear the wistfulness in Lindsey’s voice. “It’s your family, too. I mean, I know there’s Lamont—”

“No, there’s not. It’s just Rupert.”

Xander pulled his head up and gave Lindsey a weak smile. “That makes us in-laws, doesn’t it?”

Lindsey took a long pull from his bottle and grinned back. “And I guess that makes me distantly related to Angel, too.”

Xander remembered what Spike had said to Kyna a few days earlier. “This is the fucking weirdest family ever.”

“I guess so.”

They were silent for a while after that, drinking, taking turns glancing anxiously towards the bedroom door. Someone in the bedroom groaned—Xander couldn’t tell who—and Xander started to stand up but Lindsey dragged him down again. “They’ll tell us when to come in.”

“What if Spike needs more blood?”

“Slayer's and Sire’s blood are both pretty strong stuff, I think. Anyway, about three drops out of you and you’d collapse. Drink. Then I’ll get you somethin’ to eat.”

“Not hungry.”

“Yeah, but if Spike really does need some of your blood later—or, you know, just wants a little nibble….”

“Okay, okay.” Apparently Spike’s mealtime nagging was contagious. Xander finished off his juice and Lindsey made him a sandwich, a thick one with sliced roast beef and cheese. Under Lindsey’s watchful eyes, Xander ate it all and washed it down with some milk. The other bedroom was still very quiet, although if Xander strained his ears he could hear low chanting.

“You and Giles,” Xander began.

“Yeah?”

“Still kinda weird. But…you’re good for him.”

“Thanks, man. I wish I’d met him a long time ago. Woulda saved myself a lot of heartache.”

“Spike told me the other day that sometimes you have to have the bad stuff to get to the good. It’s the price we pay, maybe. And…I guess the bad makes us appreciate the good even more.”

“Yin yang. That’s very Tao of him.”

“Okay. If you say so. I can tell you, just a few days of being old and it feels so fucking good to be young again. Even though I’m wiped.”

Lindsey nodded at him.

Xander was going to suggest that maybe now he was ready for that beer, when Kyna came out of the bedroom. She looked very pale, but she had a small smile on her thin face. “He’s askin’ for ya,” she said.

Xander shot to his feet and sprinted to the bedroom.

Willow and Wes were still working on Giles and Angel was leaning up against one wall, arms folded on his chest, but Xander had eyes—well, eye—only for Spike. Spike was still flat on his back, his head propped up on a pillow. His head was still misshapen in a disturbing way, but less so than before, and his amber eyes were open and alert. “Pet,” he rasped.

Xander showed restraint in not throwing himself on top of Spike. Instead, he knelt beside him and gingerly cupped his uninjured cheek in one hand. “Sweetheart,” he whispered.

Spike smiled. “You’re young again.”

“Yep. Eye’s still gone, though.”

“Don’t care. Love you with or without all your bits.”

“I know,” Xander said, because he did. It was a solid certainty in his heart, in his core: Spike would love him no matter what he looked like or how much he aged. “You almost offed yourself, there at the end.”

“Put up your Star Wars shield.”

“I know. All the cool kids are doing it. Giles had one too, but it wasn’t holding, there in the fire. I think he’d pretty much used up all his juice.”

Spike’s face shifted from demon to human; the change felt odd under Xander’s palm, but familiar. Spike cut his eyes to the right, to where Giles was. “Percy says he’ll mend.”

Xander let out a huge sigh of relief. “Good.”

Spike’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, then opened.

“Hey, you need to rest. I’ll stay right here, okay?” Xander said.

“Got all this Slayer blood in me…fizzing…can’t even do anything with it.”

“You can heal with it, Don Juan. Save the fizzing for later.”

Spike tried his best to leer but failed and fell asleep instead.

 

***

 

He was dreaming of earthquakes. No—someone was shaking him awake. He peeled his eye open.

“Xan,” Willow whispered. “Come here a sec.”

Lindsey and Angel had carried Giles off somewhere, probably to that room across the hall that still had a decent bed. Then almost everyone had disappeared, leaving Xander to collapse gratefully into his own bed beside his own vampire, who was still out cold but looking considerably better. Xander had fallen asleep almost immediately, but now here was Willow, waking him back up again.

Christ! Was he aging again? He put his hand up to his face, which didn’t feel especially wrinkly.

“Come _here_!” Willow said, tugging at his hand.

Xander sighed, glanced once more at Spike, and then followed her out of the bedroom. Wes was waiting for them in the main room, looking rumpled and stubbly but not distressed. “What’s up?” Xander asked. “Is Giles—”

“He’s okay,” Willow interrupted. “It’s gonna take him a while to get up to 100%, but he’ll get there.”

Xander nodded, then walked into the kitchen area so he could glance at his reflection in the microwave. Not the best mirror, but from what he could tell he was back in the condition he’d been in before he met the Fienars. He grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge and walked back to the others. “So I take it something’s up?”

Willow and Wes exchanged a glance that made him uneasy. “Um,” Willow said.

“What?!”

“It’s just…when you guys returned from…from the laptop…I got this sort of weird signal off you. But then there was Giles and Spike and, and I kinda got distracted. I just remembered, actually, so I thought I’d check and yep, still there.”

“What’s still there? What do you mean ‘weird signal?’”

“It’s kinda like an aura. I did a quick check of yours when you returned, just to make sure you were okay. And you are, but…there’s something different.”

“I’m a werewolf, Will. A one-eyed werewolf who has a gay vampire lover and who just spent his evening battling statues in a laptop. Not exactly white-bread.”

Wes sighed loudly. “We are aware of all that, Xander. Nonetheless, something seems a bit odd about you, and we’d very much like to investigate.”

“Fine.” Xander sank down onto the loveseat. “Investigate. Then can I go back to sleep with Spike?”

“Sure, Xan,” Willow said, smiling. “Just sit tight for a few.”

So he did. He sat tight while they fussed over him, and it was okay because it turned out he didn’t even have to watch. He tipped his head back and shut his eye and halfway dozed, letting Willow’s and Wes’s quiet voices just sort of float over him.

That was, he dozed until Wes exclaimed “Good Lord!” at the same time Willow said, “Goddess!”

His eye flew open. “What? What is it?!” He was relieved to see that while they both looked shocked, they didn’t seem to be upset in a He’s-Gonna-Blow-Any-Second sort of way.

“It’s your…your biological clock, Xan.”

He squinted at her, confused. “Huh?”

Wes said, “Your metabolic processes. The bits that make you grow and age.”

“And?”

Willow put her hand on his shoulder. “They’re really slow. I mean, like glacial.”

“Still not getting it.”

Wes knelt so he could look at Xander without looming over him. “The virus you caught caused sudden enormous accelerations in your aging process. But now, everything’s been slowed to rates considerably below normal. I expect the combination of the original spell, the countermeasures the three of you took, and your werewolf nature…well, they’ve created something quite extraordinary. You seem able to heal at your usual werewolf speed, but your hair, your fingernails, your beard, they’ll all grow much less rapidly than usual.”

“Oh. Well that’s good, I guess. I’ll save on haircuts, and think of all the time I won’t waste on shaving.”

Wes rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. But that’s only part of it. Don’t you see? If these changes are permanent, you will mature very gradually. Fifty years from now you’ll appear not much older than you are now.”

Xander gaped at him. “You mean…I’m immortal? Like a vamp?”

“No. You will age. Just considerably slower. It’s difficult to judge at this point, but your lifespan is likely centuries.”

“Shit. _Shit_.” Xander honestly couldn’t think of a more coherent response.

“Now, we shall have to conduct more tests of course, and—”

Willow tugged Wes upright. “I think Xan needs a little time to deal. The tests can wait. Let’s let him go rest some more and mull.”

“Yes, you’re quite right.”

Wes clapped Xander’s shoulder, Willow gave him a little peck on the cheek, and they left.

There was a kind of rushing noise in Xander’s ears and he felt like he might hyperventilate. What if it was true? He and Spike could be together for…well, not forever, maybe, but pretty damned close. _Centuries_ , Wes had said.

And Xander would be forced to see everyone else he loved, all his friends, grow old and die.

He’d get to witness amazing things, probably unimaginable changes in the world. Progress, maybe. Wars. Incredible inventions. He’d have to adapt. He’d have to be careful who he got close to, who he—and Spike—were willing to let in on the secret of their nearly eternal youth.

 “Xan?” Spike’s voice came from the other room, still a little weak maybe but, oh God, what just the sound of it did to him.

Xander hauled himself to his feet, still tired and sore but also excited. And maybe just the tiniest bit horny. “Right here, Fangface. And have I got news for you!”

Good and bad. Gain and loss. Yin and yang.

He could live with that.

 

 _  
~~~fin~~~  
_

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

  
  



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